


Alcohol, Paperwork, and the End of the World (DxD Dual SI Feat. Teninshigen)

by Xan Author of the Nightmare (xanothos)



Category: Highschool DxD (Anime)
Genre: Dual Self Insert, Gen, Warcrimes, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:26:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22680937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanothos/pseuds/Xan%20Author%20of%20the%20Nightmare
Summary: Two lives, lost before their prime, have passed into the wheel of reincarnation. Not an uncommon thing, really. Less common, but far from unheard of, is their reincarnations recalling bits and pieces of their past life. With these memories in hand,  a secretary and a delinquent face the future, uncertain but determined. (Reboot of Of Gods and...Men?)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Misery and Gin

**The Bookworm**

It was a fairly slow day for Donald Angus Maxwell.

There were no emergency sirens going off. There were no appointments to be kept or turned away. The morning stack of paperwork only reached halfway to the ceiling. Hell, he was already going through the last few sheets, marking some for further consideration, stamping others and…

The expression of almost meditative focus that the seventeen-year-old had been sporting for an hour straight broke. A face pale enough to nearly glow in the dark twisted, and a hand marked with the discolourations of old corrosions and burns scratched at short, grey-white hair. The black look he gave the last sheet in the pile was only magnified by the charcoal-grey of his eyes, and the equally dark bags beneath them.

_ ‘Fucking Leraje again.’ _

This was the Pillar Heir's eighth attempt in three months to make humans permissible testing subjects for his bacterial research. Not that he outright _ said _ humans, but even if he took dozens of words to say it that was what he meant.

Screwing the paper up into a ball, Donald tossed it at the waste basket beside his desk with as much force as he could muster. Considering that he had slightly less muscle mass than the average house-cat, this only led to the offensive document bouncing off the rim and landing on the floor.

He considered just picking it up for a moment...then decided not to give it the satisfaction, and raised a hand instead.

**“Sol. Solar. Solaris. Scouring light. Eternal bane of shadows. Cleanse my foe.”**

With his first word, the space in front of his palm began to glow - and with each one that followed, it brightened. The light was not formless, though; instead, it contained itself, constraining the luminescence to the form of a forest-green circle with a radius only slightly larger than the teen’s palm. Greek letters and almost artistic lines filled the space within it as the design gently spun in place. Then, with his command, the circle unleashed a beam of light powerful enough to pierce eyelids, which fell on the paper and immediately incinerated it.

As the crumpled form of the paper collapsed into a pile of ash, Donald sighed happily and leaned back in his office chair.

The room he was sitting in was fairly large, and separated into distinct areas. Against the wall behind him were several bookcases, with a few large tomes of various kinds in evidence but most of the space taken up by sheafs and sheets of paper. In front of him was his desk, large enough for his full basically-six-foot frame to lie on with a couple of inches to spare at either end, which played host to a keyboard and mouse, a monitor, a stationary container and the In/Out trays.

To his right, a heavy-looking metal door with accompanying keypad and a thick window of transparent material indicated the presence of the volatile testing area; to his left, there were a series of metal workbenches with various containers arranged on and under them, some full and some not, while tools of all sorts hung from panels mounted to the wall.

Donald drummed his fingers on his desk as the background hum of air conditioning became slightly louder, a faint breeze rustling his lab-coat as the pile of ashes on the metal floor began to spiral into the air. The last remnants of the paper vanished into the metal ceiling’s inset fans, set between recessed fluorescent lighting, and the teen was left staring at the far, metal wall of his workshop/laboratory/office. The door set into the wall directly opposite him was a recessed, sliding metal affair, with about as much personality as any of the other fixtures in the building.

The boss wasn’t a great believer in interior design.

Then again, neither was Donald. His only real nod to the concept was the welcome mat laid out just inside the door. It was upside down from where he was sitting, but he knew what it said anyway.

**Wizards Welcome**

**(Muggles Tolerated)**

Glancing at the In-tray once more just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, he shrugged and stood up. There was a while to go yet before the clock struck noon, and the boss wasn’t due back until late afternoon. With the paperwork out of the way, he could get to work on his project…

...Or not, as the case may be.

A soothing, bell-like tone resounded through the room just as Donald had reached his feet. Not quiet enough to miss or ignore, but not loud enough to startle or annoy, it drew the listener’s attention entirely without effort.

Blinking in mild surprise, Donald’s attention re-focussed on the door, where the luminescent outline of a circle was just fading. It took a few seconds and about a dozen steps, but once he was close enough to the door it opened of its own accord, revealing the man behind it.

The man on the other side was dressed in a long-sleeved emerald shirt over black cargo trousers and plain trainers, with several pouches and holsters on the belt around his waist and a lab-coat topping the entire assembly. It was much the same fashion that Donald himself wore, though the teen preferred a white shirt with khaki trousers and rather heavy black boots. Still, except for those distinctions the two could have been wearing a uniform.

Their features, however, were anything  _ but _ uniform.

The man stood at least a full head above Donald in height, placing him well over the six-foot barrier. His skin was pale, yes, but unmarked by the various burn scars and other damage visible on the teen’s hands, or even by bags under his eyes. Those eyes were a bright shade of sky-blue, with a certain endless quality to them that seemed to absorb everything in their sight, and set below a head of hair the colour of grass, slicked back in a series of wave-like spikes.

He looked like the kind of man women would dare each other to approach in a bar, giggling to themselves if he looked their way. Donald knew this mostly because the man tended to complain about it whenever his friends dragged him out drinking.

“Good morning, Donald,” the man greeted, his voice a fairly soft, slightly airy sound that nonetheless enunciated every word with care and precision.

“Good morning Ajuka,” Donald replied. “I thought your meeting was meant to last until early afternoon?”

“Sirzechs and Serafall derailed it,” Ajuka sighed, walking into the laboratory-cum-office as Donald stepped out of the doorway. “They couldn’t focus on anything but the resumption of their siblings’ school year. It devolved into another contest of whose baby pictures were cuter, and I decided my time was better spent working.”

Donald hummed, walking past the back of his desk to snag his office chair and bring it around to the front. By the time he’d done so, Ajuka had sunk into a similar chair that wasn’t there a few seconds prior - and, in fact, may not have existed  _ at all _ prior to his desiring it to.

Donald swallowed a certain measure of jealousy, as he always did when his ‘employer’ so casually demonstrated things that he himself may never accomplish. Over the entirety of the Devil race, the creation of true matter from nothing but magic was a power unique to The Beelzebub. Besides him, the power tended to only appear in certain Gods and Goddesses. Donald was better served focussing on the goals he could reach for now.

Taking a seat himself, Donald reached for the Out-tray. “Only a couple of new items today,” he told the Satan as he hefted the chunk of paperwork with slightly-shaking arms. “Mostly it’s reports on ongoing projects. There are a couple of propositions for new studies though.”

It would be a lie to say that the relationship between Donald and Ajuka was simple. However, it  _ did  _ showcase certain easily-identified characteristics: specifically, those of the secretary, and the intern.

Which is to say, Donald did any paperwork that didn’t need Ajuka’s personal signature (using the Satan’s seal on a stamp, which was an investiture of trust that the teen was still slightly baffled about) or deserve his attention, and Ajuka paid Donald for it with the opportunity to do as much work as he wanted to.

Ajuka took the paperwork with casual ease, a pale-green magic circle forming above it without any obvious input on his part. Unlike Donald’s circles, Ajuka’s circles possessed little to no symbology. Instead, they contained an intricate series of lines and shapes, somewhere between circuitry and artwork, arranged around the symbol of the Astaroth family - the family from which he came, and the name he had laid down when he became The Beelzebub.

The few sheets of paper Donald had marked for attention slipped from the sheaf, hovering to Ajuka’s side as the rest of the paperwork flashed the same green as his magic and then sank through another magic circle that formed between the paper and Ajuka’s hand. “Thank you, Donald.”

“Not a problem Ajuka.”

“How is your project proceeding? I believe you stated the deadline is this week - the day before your weekend off, in fact.”

“All according to schedule,” Donald replied, keeping a straight face. It was perfectly normal that he would want to finish his work before he took a break and lost any momentum. There was certainly nothing to read into there. “Nothing’s gone wrong so far and at this point I don’t expect it to.”

“And you do not require any additional materials?”

“No, I should have plenty left; even if I don’t, my resource budget still has plenty of wiggle room left for this month.”

“I am pleased to hear it.”

Not that Ajuka was the type to read into things in any case.

The room fell silent for a few moments, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. Perhaps it would have been two years ago, but Donald and Ajuka had adjusted to one another now—the former, perhaps, more than the latter—and the pause was companionable as Ajuka flicked through the sheets of paper set aside by his bureaucratic buffer.

“Hmm. For what reason does Mister Mendoza wish to research the effects of long-term isolated sensory deprivation on Reincarnated Devils?” the Satan asked, having set aside the other propositions.

“I’m fairly sure he and his wife are having another of their spats,” Donald replied. “Missus Mendoza filed a most... _ innovative _ design for a terror weapon yesterday.” He paused, shuddering slightly. “Well. A terror weapon from the male perspective, at least.”

“I see,” Ajuka said.

Donald knew that he didn’t. Not really. Ajuka had never had a relationship more intimate than that of a close friend, and in a life that had lasted several hundred years so far he had only managed to gather three of those. He also didn’t quite understand why people got into heated arguments when reasoned debate was much more effective at conveying a point, why otherwise brilliant scientists could become hopelessly distracted by a colleague in a miniskirt or tight trousers, and what the attraction was to entering confined spaces with large numbers of people and imbibing toxic substances until you fell over.

But he made an effort.

“I will be in the Spatio-Temporal Lab until sixteen-thirty,” Ajuka continued after a moment. “I believe that I will soon be able to make substantial improvements to the Dimensional Gap Fluctuation Predictor based on the models currently being simulated, but I wish to test it under more strenuous circumstances. Please ensure I am not disturbed.”

That alone told Donald that it wasn’t just him having a slow day; the DGFP had been a pet project of Ajuka’s since the late nineteen-twenties, and it was no closer to doing its job now than it had been then. Though he never seemed to discard the project, Ajuka only tended to work on it when he hadn’t had any better ideas to focus on and no-one was asking him to make them something.

Still, it wasn’t Donald’s place to comment, and so he didn’t. “Alright, Ajuka.”

Ajuka inclined his head slightly, then stood and left the room, his chair disappearing into a gentle luminescence behind him. By the time the door closed behind the Satan, the light had faded, leaving behind nothing at all.

Sighing softly, Donald wheeled himself back behind his desk, shaking his mouse to wake the monitor. The fairly generic Underworld Technology Department screensaver disappeared, and a quick double-click opened an app labelled ‘Isolation Protocol’. The fairly plain window thus opened displayed several buttons, ranging from a white one labelled ‘No Alert’ to a red one with the black silhouette of a dragon, labelled ‘Inverse Contingency’.

One more click, and the grey-shaded ‘Deflector Mode’ was highlighted in blue, leaving Donald free to get up from his chair and head towards the testing area. He hoped no one dropped by to speak to Ajuka today; with Deflector Mode on, every visitor would be directed to his room, the door to which would now bear a brass plate engraved with ‘Reception’. It was an irritation, but one he could deal with, especially when no one  _ should _ be appearing.

On the assumption that someone would  _ anyway _ , however, it would be better to start working sooner rather than later.

-x-x-x-

**“Nihil. Nihilo. Nihilus. Darkness between lights. Nothing between everything. Potential unfulfilled.** **_Come alive.”_ **

The words, in and of themselves, weren’t important. They weren’t quite a mnemonic, weren’t quite a focussing exercise, but incorporated facets of both. As he spoke them, numbers flashed across his mind - hundreds of variables, dozens of equations, calculations that may as well have been engraved on the inside of his skull.

The words sheathed those numbers, like insulation for a wire, and at Donald’s final command that conduit was filled.

An energy unlike any other in the universe flowed briefly through his being, carried by the numbers and directed by the words, alighting in that space between spaces that he was focusing on. There, though he couldn’t see it happen, the energy expressed itself in reality, taking the form of a glowing circle filled with more lines and symbols than any other in his repertoire.

The circle, though, was really just a side-effect.

The circle pulsed, and the energy Donald had given it flowed to the nearest atom before attacking it. Electrons, protons and neutrons were all ripped away from one another in an act of violence that unbound the potential energy keeping the particle together…

And then, that energy was devoured.

The circle hummed in a manner only detectable at its level, a slight vibration of surrounding atoms, as it drew in the energy it created and grew a bit larger. Then, it pulsed once more, and some of the particles—indeed, most of them—reversed course. They came together a second time, forming a new atom. A  _ different _ atom.

The next time the circle pulsed, two atoms were torn apart. A hum, a slightly larger growth, and there were two more of the new atoms.

From three to seven. From seven to fifteen. From fifteen to thirty-one.

The circle grew ever larger as the process continued, atoms flying apart and coming back together in an outward wave that, if it were visible, might resemble the shockwave of a particularly high-yield bomb in a swimming pool.

It only took five seconds for the process to complete. The circle was more than large enough to see with the naked eye now, a full meter across and spinning gently in the air above what was, until seconds before, a slightly larger chunk of solid lead.

Now, it  _ gleamed. _

Looking through the observation window into the testing area, Donald considered the roughly five-hundred kilograms of gold sitting on the table within. At that morning’s price (which he received as a text from an automatic service during breakfast, as he did every morning), it was worth roughly eleven million, two-hundred-thousand US dollars. That was far more money than he’d ever had in his life; enough to live comfortably until his dying day, and go out in a gold-plated coffin to boot.

But it’s not like he’d ever find a  _ use _ for that much money, assuming he even got all of it; taxes would probably take a bite out of that, and there’d most assuredly be some very serious men and women asking some very serious questions about where he’d gotten his hands on so much gold. That could very well lead to a very different group of serious men and women having to pay the first group visits because they’d learned more than was allowed, and then coming to talk to  _ him _ about how they’d come to know it.

Then, to top it all off, none of those possibilities even considered what effect dumping large amounts of gold into the market might have on the economy, which could range from ‘absolutely nothing’ to ‘kick-started the 2008 financial crisis a whole year and a half early’. The idea that he could  _ create _ gold from pretty much anything else with a few words and a miniscule time investment, in particular, would probably  _ overshadow _ the latter in the economic calamity it could bring. Never  _ mind _ the fact that it would work for anything else on the Periodic Table too.

In truth, not being a lawyer, an economist  _ or _ a businessman, Donald had no idea what exactly would happen...but one way or another, he wasn’t particularly eager to find out.

He shook his head, partly in amusement and partly to clear it. Something about the lustre of gold always engendered thoughts like that; it was far from his first time handling the material, but he still couldn’t bring himself to cancel the text service.

He supposed it was just part of the price of being human.

A very, very  _ hefty _ part of the price.

Shaking his head  _ again, _ Donald dismissed the circle floating above the metal, the light which composed it dissipating. Tracing a circle on the window with a finger, he summoned a magic circle. This one hummed for a moment as it rotated, then began to glow brighter at the centre, projecting an opaque rectangle in the air before the transparent surface which quickly filled with information.

All excess subatomic particles accounted for. Room temperature normal. No extraneous electromagnetic radiation.

A perfect transmutation.

Allowing himself a little grin, Donald tapped a code into the keypad and the heavy door slid open, granting him access to the testing room. Reaching into his coat, he produced a pair of blacksmith’s tongs, gripping the golden cube with them. It wasn’t that large, despite its mass; barely more than thirty centimetres to a side, though it was already slumping under its own weight. Still, it  _ was  _ five-hundred kilograms of metal, and quite beyond the teen’s ability to lift normally.

Using the tongs, he easily plucked it from the table and carted it across the room to one of the workbenches, where he placed it on a fairly deep tray. Placing the tongs back in his coat, Donald then crouched, taking hold of a metal container that had been placed beneath the table. Visibly bracing himself, he took several quick breaths before standing again, straining to lift the box up and causing the table to groan slightly as he more or less dropped it onto the surface.

Panting slightly, he reached into the container to produce a fairly large cube of dark metal. A seam divided it vertically into two parts, beginning and ending at a hole in the top, while hinges and a latch sit opposite of one another further down the box. Filling the rest of the container were two-dozen golden spheres about two-thirds the size of tennis balls, with the design of a magic circle engraved on each of them largely enough to encompass precisely one hemisphere. 

Placing the box at the centre of the workbench, Donald produced a pair of gloves, a balaclava, a surgical mask and a pair of safety goggles from inside his coat.

The balaclava went on first, then the mask, then the goggles over the top; face covered, he buttoned up the lab-coat, which seemed to lose its opening when the final button is closed, and pulled up a hood that it hadn’t possessed until that final button was done with. As the hood settled around his face, the neck of the coat seemed to creep up as the fabric of the hood contracted to tighten around his head. Finally, he pulled on the gloves, and they seemed to merge with the sleeves of his coat, leaving him wearing something that best resembled a level-C hazmat suit.

Thus prepared, Donald held his hands to either side of the golden cube with a good few inches of separation, and began to speak.

**“Ignem. Igni. Ignis. Flame of renewal. All-consuming blaze. Arise here.”**

It wasn’t just one circle that appeared, this time; it was six, each one appearing to sprout from one of the cube’s faces. The cube itself lifted slightly into the air, getting maybe a centimetre of clearance from the floor of the tray...and then caught fire.

Or so it appeared. The flames that sprang into being around it filled the space between the circles and the metal, constrained  _ to _ that space; which was really for the best, because they burned with a searing white light that had liquid gold dripping from the cube’s surface into the tray only seconds after Donald had finished speaking. Enclosed in his coat, with his goggles filtering the glare, he squinted through the flames until the entire cube had melted into the tray, then flicked his wrists towards the tray itself.

All the circles but one died away, the flames they were producing dissipating at the same time. Left behind was a single circle that sank into the gold, continuing to burn though the flames themselves didn’t appear above the surface.

Letting out a quiet breath, Donald opened a drawer in the workbench and produced something rather like a large syringe with a very fat needle, which he pressed into the liquid before pulling back on the plunger. The device quickly filled with metal, and he stopped when the plunger was level with a penned-on mark before moving the needle over to the box. A depression of the plunger and the molten gold went flowing into the hole, vanishing into the box until every last drop had been swallowed.

Once the syringe was empty, Donald placed it aside and held his hands to either side of the box, much as he had for the golden cube.

**“Glaciei. Glaciem. Glacies. Ice of preservation. All-encompassing chill. Descend here.”**

A circle formed, barely larger than a fingertip, and as soon as it appeared it descended into the box. A moment later, the glow of molten metal, visible on the walls of that hole, disappeared – and so too did the light of the circle.

Donald tapped out the passage of several seconds on the workbench, then undid the latch on the box and started pulling the two sides away from one another. It took some effort, but eventually it swung open, revealing a golden ball identical to the ones in the container, nestled in the left-hand side of the mould. A traced circle in the air before the ball and another projected screen showed a temperature barely distinguishable from the rest of the workshop, then vanished as he reached through it to retrieve the sphere.

A couple of seconds later, it joined its elder siblings in the container, the mould was closed and latched, and Donald reached for his syringe again.

He needed forty-nine spheres to finally have all the parts for his project. He had put together the launcher the previous month, woven and plated the net the previous week, and had spent two months prior to  _ both _ of those designing, testing and refining the magic circle that was now printed on the spheres. It didn’t have to be perfect— _ nothing _ was perfect—but it had to be as good as Donald could possibly make it.

There were lives on the line, after all – and one of them was his own.

It was April Ninth, two-thousand-and-seven  _ anno domini _ , and in six days he was going to change the course of the future. Perhaps in such a minor way that it was barely noted, perhaps enough to shake the firmament of all reality; one way or another, the name Donald Angus Maxwell was going to go down in the history books.

He hoped it would happen more than once though.

As he pulled open the mould once again, the Magician buried a certain dreadful anxiety beneath the surety of his plan. Even if it was based on the memories of a different life, a different name, a different world...those memories hadn’t failed him yet, and so he held onto the recollections of Donne Gibbs just as he clung to his own identity.

All variables had been accounted for, all processes were in place, all contingencies were readied.

Whether it was the best possible outcome or the worst-case scenario, he could at least be sure that he knew what was going to happen next.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**The Nephalist**

It was with restless energy that Junichiro Yamamoto walked onto the grounds of Kuoh Academy.

He scratched at the collar of the uniform he’d shoved himself into; even with the slight alterations he’d made to the uniform (he’d wear a cravat the day his body was put into a casket and not a moment sooner), the damn thing was uncomfortable. 

Ah, well. At least the tiny pins holding down his collar and the cufflinks fastening the wrists of his dress shirt were permitted. All four were in the same shape: an upended crimson gourd, the liquid pouring forth from its lip forming the shape of a mountain.

It wouldn’t feel  _ right _ to go into public without the crest of his clan visible somewhere on his person, and Kuoh Academy drew the line at male ear piercings, it seemed.

He glanced around the campus absently; unsurprisingly, there was nobody to be seen. After all he’d arrived forty minutes before orientation was scheduled to begin for returning students, as he was not only transferring in, but was also in possession of rather... _ questionable _ credentials – from an academic perspective at least. Waking up early enough that he could squeeze in his training beforehand had been a pain in the ass, but that was life.

Early rising aside, were it not for those odd memories he had inherited, he probably would’ve had far more trouble completing the entry examination (not that it had been  _ easy  _ in the slightest). His clan was far from the most academically inclined group of people in the world. If knowledge wasn’t of practical use to kin and clan, it was usually ignored.

But every flock had its black sheep…even if Junichiro was more of a sheepdog than anything else…

Okay, that metaphor ran away from him, but he was out of his depth, dammit!

Shaking his head to clear it of nonsense, Junichiro meandered onto the campus, taking mental note of both the tingling he had felt upon crossing the threshold of the property  _ and _ of the twin points of concentrated magic energy he sensed from the school. 

The point within the main school building was distinctly aligned with Water, while the one in the older-looking building to the back of the grounds was harder to decipher. However, he  _ was  _ able to sense that this unknown element had a strong connection to Void, due to his own affinity for the element. Neat...

Junichiro’s attention was pulled from the metaphysical by the physical; to be precise, by the sound of wood striking wood, coming from a building off to one side. He found himself drawn towards the building by the noise, and after glancing at his watch, decided to investigate.

Upon entering the building and following the sounds to their source, Junichiro came across a sight familiar to him: a dojo. Within, two young women dressed in the baggy  _ hakama _ pants and white  _ gi _ of kendo practitioners squared off, bamboo training swords clashing against one another in a rhythmic tempo. The brunette of the pair seemed more aggressive, pressing the attack more often than not, while the other, a girl with strawberry blonde hair that bordered on cherry blossom pink, maintained a calm, even-tempered defense.

Stepping silently into the dojo, he leaned against a wall and quietly observed their form, his own fingers unconsciously curling around a pair of hilts that weren’t there.

…

It wasn’t that the two weren’t good at what they were doing, they  _ were _ , it was just…

What they were doing wasn’t the same as live combat, was it? The training blades he could accept; most people didn’t have to teach their children restraint by having them use live steel in training.

Junichiro rubbed at his arms absently, the scars hidden by his uniform twinging at the memories.

No, what felt off to him had to be the  _ rigidity  _ of their movements, the adherence to forms. Now, he knew that forms had their place when it came to teaching one how to use a blade, but to his eyes, and the eyes of his clan, they were just that: a teaching aid. If you stuck completely to a set of forms during live combat, then your opponent would more easily be able to predict what you would do next.

...Bah! He was overthinking this; these students were normal humans, living normal lives. If the time came that even  _ they _ had to pick up a blade to defend themselves, there’d be bigger things to worry about than overreliance on forms.

It was at that moment that the two students lowered their weapons, and almost as one seemed to register his presence. 

He knew he was an odd sight, what with his forge-tanned skin and six feet of height, so their shock upon seeing him was unsurprising.

The brunette’s scowl as she all but stalked over to him was a bit surprising, however.

“Who are you and why are you in our dojo this early in the morning?” she demanded with more than a little heat, her training blade lowered but held in a firm, ready grip.

Junichiro ran a hand through his short, black hair as a sheepish look crossed his face. “I’m transferrin’ in, so I came in early. Heard the spar from outside and figured I’d see what it was.” He gave a shallow bow, noticing as he raised his head that both girls seemed surprised about something. Probably his accent, come to think of it.

“Junichiro Yamamoto. Sorry for interruptin’; I’ll let y’all get back to trainin’.” As he spoke, he turned and left, waving absently as he went. Hopefully he hadn’t left too bad an impression on them.

After another brief glance at his watch, Junichiro pulled a booklet from one of his blazer’s pockets, and flipped through it rapidly before finding what he needed: a map of the campus.

He quickly found his way to the faculty room, where he was surprised to see another student conversing seriously with a teacher. Her black hair was neatly trimmed into a bob cut, her unusual violet eyes flashing behind black-rimmed spectacles as she spoke quietly but firmly to the teacher. Based on the young woman’s assertive body language and the teacher’s submissive mannerisms, it quickly became clear to him that the power balance here was inverse to the typical student-teacher relationship.

Of course, this wasn’t all that terribly surprising; the same aura of Water that he sensed coming from a few doors down also encircled the young woman, though in a far more tightly-controlled form. No doubt about it; this was one of the Devils entrusted with the management of Kuoh.

_ ‘Sona Sitri’ _ , whispered a voice both utterly foreign and intimately familiar. Junichiro was long used to these interruptions, knowing them to be nothing more than his mind interpreting the extant memories it housed as best it could.

At that moment, the door clicked shut behind him, prompting both the teacher and… _ Sona  _ to look towards him in surprise. The latter seemed to almost double-take, no doubt realizing that he was not all that he appeared at first glance.

Before either of them could speak, Junichiro took the initiative. “Sorry for interruptin’; I’m transferrin’ today, and the book said to arrive early.” He waved the handbook in indication. “Didn’t say  _ how _ early, tho; hope I ain’t late.” He gave a lopsided but friendly grin, only showing a bare flash of his teeth. “Name’s Junichiro Yamamoto.”

Sona’s eyes narrowed, fixing him with a calculating gaze for a moment, then she turned to the teacher. “We will continue this conversation at a later date, Professor Yamada. For now, however, I must assist this new student.” She smiled. It was not a kind smile, but the smile of a shark with blood on its tongue and prey in its sights. “Have a pleasant first day of classes.”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and strode towards the door. Junichiro stepped to the side, and she exited the room, Junichiro not so much following her as being pulled along in her wake.

His grin widened a fraction as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, regained his metaphorical feet, and lengthened his stride to walk beside her.  _ ‘For a Water user, she’s got fire in her. Ma would  _ love  _ her.’ _

Sona’s eyes flickered towards him as he matched her brisk pace with ease, both due to the six inches of height he had on her and to his physical conditioning. They landed briefly on his pins and cufflinks before returning to the hallway before her.

Abruptly, she stopped in front of a particular door, one to the very room housing the concentration of Sona’s magic. She turned to face Junichiro. “This is the Student Council room. I, Souna Shitori, am Student Council President.”

Unable to contain himself, Junichiro remarked, “That’s gotta be the worst fake name I’ve  _ ever  _ heard, Miss Sitri.”

Sona’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed, her gaze becoming calculating. After a moment of silence, though, she relaxed and sighed, replying “I am well aware. Unfortunately,  _ Sister Dearest _ filled out the paperwork when I was not paying attention, and Father found it tremendously amusing, so here we are.”

Junichiro nodded sagely, a hand pressed to his chin. “Ya’ don’t gotta tell me anything else; Ma  _ loves _ messin’ with me.”

The two briefly shared a look of mutual commiseration, before Sona opened the door and invited him inside. “In truth,” she said, “you are the only transfer required to arrive early, simply because we wanted to find out just  _ who _ the ‘surprise guest’ our siblings approved was.”

As he entered the dark room, Junichiro mused aloud. “We?”

The moment the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake, but by then it was too late. The light switched on at precisely that moment, and behind a desk, a swivel chair spun around to reveal another young woman. A mane of crimson hair cascaded down her back as she tented her hands and rested her elbows on the desk, azure eyes glinting with glee.

_ “We,” _ she affirmed darkly.

A sound of a flesh impacting flesh broke the tension of the scene over its knee as Sona removed her glasses specifically to palm her face. “ _ Must _ you, Rias?”

_ ‘Rias Gremory’,  _ the voice supplied helpfully.

‘Rias’ unclasped her hands and let out a light chuckle as she rose from the chair in a way so deliberately sensual that it was unmistakably practiced. Junichiro chuckled internally; she was stunning, there was no mistaking that, but there was no substitute for  _ experience _ .

She was also unmistakably a Devil, and just as Sona’s magical signature was one and the same with the concentration of magic in this room, so too was Rias’ magic a twin to the concentration housed towards the edge of the campus.

“Do not be so serious, Sona dear,” Rias all but purred. “It was just a joke.”

Sona sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who has put up with poppycock and shenanigans for much of her life, and has somehow yet to become inured to such things.

Once more seizing the initiative, Junichiro cleared his throat, drawing the gaze of both women. “Miss Sitri told me that neither of ya’ know who I am or why I’m here, right?”

Rias nodded. “Big Brother only told me that we would be hosting an ‘Important Special Guest’ for the foreseeable future, and refused to tell me  _ anything  _ else.” She shook her head in exasperation.

Junichiro nodded, then scratched the back of his head. “Well, I already know who ya’ both are; Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, heiresses of both of your Devil...Clans? Tribes?”

“Houses,” Sona offered affably.

“...Right. Houses. Aaaanyways, it’s only fair I tell ya’ both who am...or show ya’, I guess.” He shucked off his blazer and motioned for Sona to give him a bit of space. She obliged, and…

He.

Let.

_ Go. _

His skin began to darken with heat once more, going from a light tan to an almost unnatural reddish-copper. The sound of creaking joints and straining tendons could be heard as his muscles bunched and writhed beneath his skin, becoming far more dense. His short, spiky black hair rapidly lengthened to reach his shoulders, dyeing itself a darker crimson than Rias’ as it did so. The tips of his ears lengthened and narrowed, becoming almost elven and poking out from beneath the curtain of red.

Finally, the most drastic and identifying change occured. As Junichiro closed his eyes in focus, the front of his skull  _ erupted _ , twin spires of flesh-colored keratin spearing a full six inches up from his forehead. The viciously pointed tips rapidly became cherry-red as they filled with heat and chakra.

Junichiro faced the heiresses and reopened his eyes, giving them a wolfish smile that seemed all the more feral for the fact that his canines had become full-fledged fangs, and that his eyes had become yellow-gold, slit-pupiled lamps.

“Lemme reintroduce myself,” Junichiro said. “Name’s Junichiro Yamamoto, son of Homura Yamamoto, warrior of the Ooe Clan, and unofficial envoy of Kyoto’s Lady Yasaka.”

He glanced upwards to his horns as though noticing them for the first time, then grinned. “Oh, and I’m the first half-Oni, half-human born in a couple centuries. Nice to meet ya’!”

-x-x-x-

By comparison to his introduction to Rias and Sona, his introduction to his peers at the beginning of classes was a lot less remarkable. He got a number of odd looks from various sources, and could practically  _ feel _ the gazes on his back when he took his seat. He hoped it subsided soon; even if he could be outgoing and spontaneous at times, being the center of attention tired Junichiro rather fast.

He took note of the pair of classmates from whom he could sense the particular flavor of magical energy he was quickly learning to associate with Devils; namely a princely blond who carried the faintest scent of Metal and who seemed to bear the brunt of a  _ lot _ of female attraction, and a peppy brunette who had a vaguely familiar energy to her. It took a bit of thought, but Junichiro eventually realized that she carried the faintest traces of energy commonly used by demon-exorcising swordsmen.

Junichiro would have ordinarily been worried; after all, the ‘demons’ these swordsmen would hunt usually were not the extra-planar Devils like Rias or Sona, but rogue yokai,  _ especially _ rogue Oni. However, the fact that this young woman was herself a Devil indicated to him that she was either from a defunct clan of swordsmen or was reasonable enough to differentiate between benevolent and malevolent demons.

Either way, he was optimistic.

Class passed slowly, as it was wont to do, but eventually lunchtime rolled around. Lacking any prepared meal, Junichiro decided to purchase lunch from the cafeteria. He was pleasantly surprised to see that Kuoh Academy’s prestigious reputation not only extended to its classes, but to its amenities as well.

Of course, the meal paled in comparison to anything his mother could have cooked, but that was simply the nature of home cooking.

As he rose to dispose of his tray after he was finished with his meal, Junichiro was...approached? Accosted? Assaulted?

…

He was  _ exposed to _ a trio of young men. The first had his brown hair pulled back into a rat-tail, while the second had darker hair and thick glasses, and the third was bald but in possession of a truly prodigiously large pair of ears. They were not in his class, but the voice recognized them and whispered their names to him all the same.

_ ‘Issei. Motohama. Matsuda. Pervert Trio.’ _

He internally questioned the apparent title, but his confusion was swiftly and brutally dispelled with a mere eight words.

“Hey, new guy!” the brunet all but shouted. “You got any good porn?”

Junichiro blinked, slowly and carefully, as he set down his tray – as though he was standing before a large, feral animal.

…

And in a way, he  _ was. _

As the three eagerly waited for him to reply, he slowly backed away until roughly three meters were between him and them, then turned on his heel and walked away.

_ ‘Not today, Satan.’ _

-x-x-x-

It wasn’t until later that Junichiro realised how appropriate his passing thought actually was.

-x-x-x-

The rest of the school day passed without much else of note occurring, though after school let out he was approached by the blond and brunette from his class, whose names he learned to be Yuuto Kiba and Tomoe Meguri respectively. They had pulled him aside into a nearby empty classroom to talk.

Yuuto was the first to speak, a placid smile painted onto his face. “Lady Rias and Lady Sitri informed us of your particular... _ circumstances _ , and instructed us to pass something along to you.”

Both he and Tomoe offered Junichiro a flier, bearing similar sigils he recognized to be miniature magic circles. The one Yuuto turned over was festively decorated with hearts and a cutesy succubus surrounding the crimson sigil. The phrase “Your wish will come true!” was written on it in bubbly, cartoonish English letters.

By contrast, the one Tomoe handed him was straightforward and undecorated, sharing more traits with a business ledger than any sort of flier. The sole spot of color on the black and white document was the magic glyph at the top, deep blue and roughly the size of a thumbprint.

“If anything particularly urgent should occur,” Yuuto continued, “or should you need immediate assistance with something time-sensitive or dangerous, please feel free to use these filers. You simply need to focus on a need or desire, and Lady Rias and Lady Sitri will know.”

“And if you need anything that  _ isn’t _ super urgent,” Tomoe added cheerfully, “just come on down to the StuCo office; Lady Sona will get you sorted out in a jiffy. We’re open before, between, and after classes, Monday to Saturday.”

Junichiro offered an amicable grin as he pocketed the fliers. “Pass on the message that I appreciate the hospitality, would ya’?” His grin faded into a smaller, sincere smile. “I didn’t know what to expect, comin’ here to Kuoh, but so far...I’ve felt welcome.”

Tomoe gave an energetic thumbs up and wink, while the more stoic Yuuto merely inclined his head, a more genuine smile than before on his face. “I am sure that Lady Rias and Lady Sitri will be pleased to hear it,” he remarked, then glances at a clock hanging on a nearby wall. “Oh dear, is it that late already? I apologise for cutting our conversation short so abruptly, mister Yamamoto—”

“Junichiro, please. That goes for both of ya’.” 

Yuuto blinked, then nodded and continued, “Very well, Junichiro. Again, I apologise for the abrupt conclusion to our conversation, but Meguri and I both have responsibilities with our respective Peerages.”

Junichiro waved dismissively. “Don’t think on it. Was good to meet ya’ both, Kiba, Meguri.”

Tomoe extended her index finger at him and shook it in a mock-stern manner. “Now, now, Juni. If you’re going to let us call you by  _ your  _ given name, you’re going to return the favor, you hear?”

Yuuto, for his part, merely shrugged and offered, “Most people call me Kiba anyways, but you may refer to me as Yuuto if it pleases you.”

Junichiro chuckled at Tomoe’s apparent nickname for him, then nodded. “‘Right then. Lemme say it right this time. Was nice to meet ya’ both, Yuuto, Tomoe.”

Tomoe planted her hands on her hips triumphantly and gavea satisfied nod, before turning to go. Over her shoulder, she called, “Much better. See you later, Juni!”

Yuuto shook his head with amusement. “Have a pleasant evening, Junichiro,” he said, before following Tomoe from the classroom.

As Junichiro himself left, he chuckled to himself.  _ ‘What a pair.’ _

-x-x-x-

Once Junichiro left Kuoh Academy, he took a bit of time to wander the city’s commercial areas, spotting a few places of interest; namely, a couple of restaurants, a used bookstore, and an arcade. He made a mental note of their locations and then headed homeward.

He paused briefly at the base of a hill and looked up to its summit. A faint tingle of energy was emanating from a derelict church at the top of the hill, though between distance and a lack of familiarity, he could not put his finger on what it was.

All of a sudden, the voice returned, not whispering but  _ shouting,  _ images flashing in his head. 

Images of that Issei boy holding hands with an unfamiliar black-haired girl. Images of that same girl facing Issei in a park, now a woman bearing coal-black wings. 

_ Images of Issei being run through by a lance of corrupted violet light, and bleeding out on the ground while the woman stood above him and laughed. _

Through it all, the voice cried out.  _ ‘Fallen Angel! Raynare! Murderess!’ _ it hissed.

Junichiro clutched his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he forced the memories down. It took more than a minute, but he managed to regain his composure. Shooting one last measuring glance at the ill-maintained church atop the hill, he turned and walked home, mind working furiously.

By the time Junichiro reached his house, the sun was beginning to set, and the beginnings of a plan had taken shape in his mind.

All throughout dinner and his evening exercise his mind continued to work, and he found himself too focused on the issue at hand to even begin to pay attention to a book.

By the time the day was done and he laid in his futon, he was still uncertain. There were simply too many unknowns to judge the situation for certain. However, one thing stood out to him as clear: the memories of the man known as ‘Johan Lewis’, presumably his past life, had always proven to be useful in his past, and he trusted them to not steer him wrong on something this serious.

Junichiro sighed, closing his eyes. If nothing else, he could take comfort in the fact that he did some of his best planning in the heat of the moment. After all, that giddy sense of excitement and terror that came from plunging headfirst into the unknown?

It  _ energised  _ him; despite his tendency to overthink things and try to plan things in advance, he was never more at home than working on the fly.

What would come, would come. He simply had to be ready to stand up when it did.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Authors’ Note**

**Tenin: Well here we fucking go again.**

**Xan: Not even doing the “Ah, shit. Here we go again.” meme? Smh my head.**

**So yeah. This is a reboot of “Of Gods and...Men?”, and as you may have noticed, _there’ve been some changes._ Hope you all enjoy!**


	2. Chapter One: Everything You Know Is Wrong

Chapter One: Everything You Know Is Wrong

**Junichiro**

The air of the Kuoh Student Council office crackled with dual tightly-leashed but unspent energies. The churning chaos of Water pushed up against the gaping emptiness of Destruction as Sona Sitri and Rias Gremory received unwelcome news. 

“My apologies, I don’t think I heard you correctly. You sensed  _ what?” _ Rias asked, her eyes wide and her lips pulled thin and taut. The long, thin cowlick arcing from the crown of her head twitched in agitation, as though it had a mind of its own.

It was far more plausible that it was just reacting to all the magic Rias was giving off in her emotional state, of course.

Sona, for her part, didn’t let her own distress show on her face, save for a brief widening of her eyes, but the energy coursing through the room belied her calm demeanor.

Junichiro, however, was quite calm as he repeated what he’d told the duo moments before. “There’s some Fallen holed up in an old church across town. Since Kuoh’s under your watch, I figured I’d be all neighbor-like and let ya’ know.”

Sona adjusted her glasses and gave a curt nod. “And we  _ do _ appreciate that, Mr. Yamamoto; do not mistake our reactions for a lack of appreciation. It is simply... _ surprising _ , I suppose, that these Fallen were able to infiltrate Kuoh so seamlessly as to totally avoid our notice.”

Junichiro shrugged. “I’m thinkin’ they got sent here on a mission. Ya’ wouldn’t send brawlers on a job that needs sneakin’, would ya’?” he asked rhetorically. 

Naturally, his memories had told him  _ exactly _ what the Fallen were here for, but it’d be damn hard to prove he wasn’t full of shit. No, it was much better for all involved if he just tried to steer them in the right direction and helped wherever he could.

Sona considered his words for a moment, then looked to Rias. “He has a point.”

Rias cupped her chin in thought. “That he does. And if the Fallen want to spy on us, they  _ would  _ send agents who know who to keep out of our sight,” she said, glancing at Junichiro briefly, “but not necessarily ones who know how to mask themselves from the senses of a yokai.”

“However,” Sona added, “we must also be prepared for the possibility that they are in Kuoh for purposes more sinister than mere espionage.” She leaned forward at her desk, fingers tented as her eyes flicked around the room, staring at visualizations of thought only she could see. “Whether it be to strike at us for some grudge against our siblings, to strike at one of our peerages to ‘liberate’ them from our ‘control’, or for any other purpose that could cause harm to those under our care as the caretakers of Kuoh, we have to be ready to respond to the unexpected.”

“Of course, being prepared for anything they might try is a good idea,” Rias confirmed, “but we should also confront them directly about their presence in Kuoh. In the worst case scenario, they fight us, manage to escape, and find a new hiding spot, but even then we’ll still be on guard. In the best case scenario, us knowing that they are here spoils their mission entirely and they leave.”

Sona nodded. “Your Peerage has more raw power than mine, so in the event they  _ do _ fight, you would likely have a better outcome. In the meantime, I have more members in my Peerage, so we can better keep an eye out around the city should things go sour.”

Junichiro couldn’t help but notice how... _ optimistic _ the two were being. Assuming that the worst-case scenario was having the Fallen escape, rather than, say, one or more of the Fallen being simply  _ too strong _ for them to handle. It was almost certainly due to inexperience, but it still rankled Junichiro something fierce.

To this end, he cleared his throat. Both Sona and Rias snapped around to look at him, then flushed almost in tandem. Had...had they gotten so caught up in planning that they  _ forgot he was even there? _

…

Meh. At least they’d been talking about something important.

Junichiro scratched the back of his head, then leaned forward in his folding chair. “Soooo...It sounds like ya’ got a plan. Ya’ want any backup from yours truly, or ya’ want me to back off?”

Rias gave a kind smile, but shook her head. “We appreciate the offer, we  _ really _ do, but this is  _ our _ responsibility. You coming to us with this information was one thing, but if we let you fight our battles for us, it would reflect poorly on our abilities to actually take care of Kuoh.”

Sona gave Rias a long look that must have carried paragraphs worth of meaning for Rias, based on her wince, then nodded in agreement. “I concur. We have been entrusted with safeguarding the residents of this city, and we must fulfil that obligation.  _ However.” _ Sona paused for a mere moment, but the force with which she stared at Junichiro made it feel like minutes had gone by. “We are not fools. If, for whatever reason, you are in a position to protect someone the Fallen have targeted and we are not, we will not begrudge you for acting before attempting to contact us.”

Rias nodded quickly in agreement. “Of course! Getting mad at you for saving someone’s life would be silly.”

“No, I getcha,” Junichiro replied easily, rising from his chair and folding it in one motion. “Lemme know how the meet ‘n’ greet goes, tho’, would ya’?”

Rias’ eyes twinkled with mirth at the description, but she answered seriously all the same. ‘But of course. And once again, thank you for coming to us with this information.”

Junichiro waved his hand dismissively. “Ya’ don’t gotta thank me for doin’ my civic duty; who knows what them sneaky crows are up to this time?”

Well, technically,  _ he _ did. But he’d already pondered on the potential difficulties of bringing up  _ that  _ can of worms, so best not to dwell on it.

“Aaaanyways,” Junichiro drawled, glancing at his watch, “Unless my watch is broke,  _ which it ain’t _ , it’s about time for class. Be seein’ ya, Prez, Miss Gremory.” He threw a lackadaisical wave over one shoulder as they replied, before stuffing both hands in his pockets and ambling out of the office, his long legs taking him down the hall quickly despite his relaxed pace.

One thing was for sure, he thought as he entered his homeroom and slipped into his seat.

_ ‘Class is gonna be way more boring than whatever Gremory’s gonna be doin’. Shame I can’t tag along.’ _

-x-x-x-x-x-

And it was. Despite school being a novelty to Junichiro, who only had blurry memories that didn’t belong to him as a reference to human society, the teachers seemed more like wrung-out rags than authority figures, and most of what they taught didn’t seem like it had much practical use in the real world.

But it didn’t matter; he’d chosen this, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna quit just because Calculus was a snoozefest.

A few days passed without anything of note occuring, but as Thursday’s classes came to a close, Junichiro found himself accosted and dragged off by a bubbly Tomoe, Yuuto following along with a small, amused smile on his face.

...Well, he  _ said _ ‘accosted and dragged off’, but really, he was just being dramatic. In reality, Tomoe had suggested that the three of them go get some ramen and chat. Junichiro was all for this idea; both in this life and the last, good food was his vice. And if the good food came with good company?

It didn’t get much better than that.

The ramen shop the trio ended up going to was well-hidden; the building had no sign and was located around back of a warehouse in the part of Kuoh that could best be described as dodgy, and that was if you were feeling  _ generous. _

Despite the shady location and equally shady atmosphere, neither Tomoe nor Yuuto seemed bothered. As such, Junichiro shrugged and decided not to worry about it, even if Tomoe’s comment about the restaurant being owned by ‘a friend of a friend’ raised a few questions in his mind.

  
Whatever the case, the ramen was good, and the shop’s dim lighting and private tables made it a good place to talk about things you didn’t want other people hearing. That was a good thing, based on the gleam in Tomoe’s eyes when she set down her chopsticks and demanded, “Spill.”

When Yuuto merely raised a puzzled eyebrow, his fellow Knight rolled her eyes and added, “About the meeting with the crows; give me details, my man!”

Junichiro, having long since demolished his fourth and final bowl of ramen, spoke up, “I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t curious. Since the city ain’t on fire, I figure it didn’t go  _ too  _ badly, but that don’t tell me much, see?”

Kiba cupped his chin, then nodded. “I take your point. Hmm...where to begin…”

“The beginnin’ is usually a safe bet, I reckon,” Junichiro snarked, a lazy grin on his face.

Kiba shot him a look, then replied, “ _ Quite. _ The beginning it is, then.

“When Lady Rias set out to confront the Fallen, I went with her. Akeno, our Queen, wanted to go with us as well, but Lady Rias pointed out that, if things went poorly, it would be ill done to keep all of our eggs in one basket, as it were.” Yuuto winced, then added, “There were other reasons to not bring Akeno along, but those are not mine to share.”

Junichiro and Tomoe both nodded; neither of them were going to pry.

“Regardless,” Yuuto continued, “she, along with our Rook, Koneko, stayed behind, while I accompanied Lady Rias.”

The blond made a face. “Once we got close to that church, the stench of Light was palpable, but the fact that we had to practically walk into the church to sense their presence there was... _ troubling _ , to say the least.”

“As for the Fallen themselves...they were oddly cooperative, once it was clear they’d been caught out.” The expression on Yuuto’s face made it clear that he was more than a bit confused by this. “Of the three, one of them did all the talking: a tall man dressed in a trenchcoat and a fedora, of all things.”

Tomoe let out a noise somewhere between a snort and a confused “Huh?”, while Junichiro merely quirked an eyebrow as the voice in his head supplied,  _ ‘Dohnaseek.’ _

Yuuto gave a wry smile. “That was my reaction as well. Regardless of his bizarre fashion choices, he  _ did _ cooperate with us, and even managed to be civil despite the enmity between our races.

“That said, he did not disclose  _ everything _ about their mission here within Kuoh, just that they were searching for something, and were to remain unobserved.” At this, a rather vicious smile crossed Yuuto’s face as he raised his glass in Junichiro’s direction. “He seemed  _ quite _ put out that they’d been discovered, so I have you to thank for the look on his face. It was... _ immensely _ satisfying to see a fully grown Fallen go from surprise to horror to consternation in the span of three seconds.”

Junichiro clinked his glass against Yuuto’s hesitantly.  _ ‘Blondie’s got a bit of a sadist in him, don’t he?’ _

After a moment or two, the blond seemed to realise how intense he’d become and coughed into a fist, his cheeks reddening. “A-anyways, that Fallen was pretty blunt with us. He said that there was no point in concealing themselves or lying once they’d been caught, since their whole mission apparently hinged on remaining undetected.” Yuuto frowned. “He  _ could _ have been lying, but it didn’t seem that way, and after we left, Lady Rias’ familiar witnessed all three of them quickly leave Kuoh entirely. We went back to search the place, but they didn’t leave anything of use behind.”

At that point, Tomoe spoke up, her tone much more serious than Junichiro had come to expect from her. “Lady Sona mentioned we ought to keep an eye out for anything suspicious while we’re out on contracts; I’m guessing that Lady Gremory doesn’t trust them to really be gone?”

Yuuto scoffed as he replied, “Of course not. If they were good enough to get inside Kuoh undetected the first time, I don’t doubt they could find their way back a second time.” He glanced at Junichiro. “Normally, Lady Rias wouldn’t want to ask for outside help, since this is her responsibility, but…”

“Since I can sniff ‘em out and y’all can’t, ya’ want my help,” Junichiro finished for him with a nod. “Ain’t no trouble; I’m glad to lend a hand. Least I can do.”

Yuuto exhaled, then smiled. “Lady Rias will be relieved to hear that, I would wager. The House of Gremory is in your debt.”

Junichiro made a rude noise. “Friends don’t hold debts over shit like this, not when people might be in danger.” When Yuuto opened his mouth to protest, Junichiro raised a hand, then asked, “Ya really want to pay me back?”

Yuuto nodded.

Junichiro jerked a thumb at the stack of bowls beside him. “Split the cost of my ramen with me.”

Yuuto stared blankly at Junichiro for a long moment, then snorted before pulling out his wallet. “You’re impossible, you know that? Forget splitting it; I’ll cover your tab.”

Junichiro leaned back in his seat and let out a deep laugh. “Ya drive a hard bargain, Yuuto, but I guess I can’t do nothin’ but accept, eh?”

Yuuto merely shook his head ruefully. Tomoe, for her part, seemed all too amused at her fellow Knight’s consternation.

After their meals were paid for and the trio parted ways, Junichiro started for home. Enough time had passed that the sun was already sinking beneath the horizon, but he took a slow, meandering path home, allowing his metaphorical ‘inner eye’ to open wider. 

Really, that term didn’t do it justice; it was more like opening yourself up to the world and letting it flow over you. Not  _ through  _ you, though. Senjutsu was a  _ whole  _ other kettle of fish, and he  _ knew _ he wasn’t ready for that by any stretch of the imagination; he’d barely started on Touki!

...He was getting off-track again, though. Point was, sensing stuff with your life force was more like feeling the wind currents on your skin and less like seeing how the wind stirred up dust. 

And, despite how intrinsic it was to his nature as a yokai, halfblood or not, he was far from a master at it. As such, it didn’t come as  _ that _ much of a surprise that he came up with not a single hint of the tainted Light so intrinsic to the Fallen. Before, they hadn’t known they might have to take extra steps to hide themselves, but now their guard was up. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Fallen actually  _ had _ left like they had said they would...

Junichiro snorted.  _ ‘Yeah, right.’ _ The memories of his past life were blurry, but what he  _ could _ puzzle out of them made it clear that ‘Raynare’ wasn’t the type to give up so easily.

He had little information to go on, now that the Fallen had scattered, and if his suspicions about them being able to hide from him were right…

Well, that left only one place where he might be able to catch them, now didn’t it?

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Donald**

Donald arrived in Kuoh on Friday, checking into a booked hotel room, and confirmed the validity of his online research by tracking down every park in the city and setting up ‘hides’. They weren’t much, basically just magic circles engraved onto trees or stones with small microphone-equipped cameras placed nearby, but they would suppress sounds, smells and presences within their boundaries, while also serving as handy teleportation markers.

That project was completed just in time for Kuoh Academy to let out, and Donald was already positioned on a high-rise building in the city centre, a much more carefully crafted version of the same enchantment he used for his hides woven into the cloak he was wearing. Even from miles away, the image coming through his binoculars was absolutely perfect, and he was able to pick out an eye-catching red shirt among the tide of black and white.

The wearer wasn’t a particularly stand-out individual; brown hair, brown eyes, average height and build… His hairstyle wasn’t even as spiky as instinct said it should be, thought it was still longer on the right than the left.

Nevertheless, the resemblance was still there - as it was for the two other teenagers accompanying the brunet, one of them with shaggy black hair and thick glasses, the other close-shaven like a monk with massive ears.

Issei Hyoudou identified.

Step one, complete.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Approaching Kuoh’s abandoned church was done with the utmost care, draped in the same concealing cloak and crawling through the surrounding forest to the edge of the open area. It was already late at night, but Donald still made every movement with calculated focus, slowly shifting anything that might cause noise out of his path as he approached the building.

Once he was flush with the wall, he reached down to a zipped pouch on his waist, opening it one tooth at a time until he could reach inside and retrieve what seemed like a pane of glass about the size of a smartphone. Looking through it, however, proved it was more than it seemed - instead of the church’s exterior, it showed a supernaturally high-definition outline of the church’s interior.

There was no colour in the image, but the various pews and other furniture within were clearly defined...as was the passageway beneath the altar.

Panning his view around, the teen followed the passageway with his eyes until it connected with a series of underground passages under the church, which probably took up a good percentage of the hill’s volume. Most of it seemed to be residential space, judging by the fact that most of the smaller rooms had singular humanoid figures resting on what looked like beds, but there were also larger spaces that could be recreational areas, planning rooms or kitchens and dining halls...there was even one that seemed like an open bath.

That one got a raised eyebrow, but Donald shook it off mentally and continued his examination.

It took him half an hour to completely memorise the layout and identify his points of interest, then another two hours to crawl his way around the hill and visit all the entrances to the complex’s concealed vents. There were over a dozen in total, and surveillance drones, almost purely mechanical to minimise the odds of detection and small enough to be mistaken for insects with the way they’d been painted, were retrieved from their containers on Donald’s back and deployed into each one.

The spider-like creations made their way through the concealed shafts and into the complex to spread themselves out and hunker down as cameras and microphones, while on the surface, Donald inscribed specialised magic circles on the metal interiors of the vents. Then, once the task was complete, he made his slow way to the base of the hill, retrieved his backpack from a tree to stuff the cloak inside, and caught a bus back to his hotel.

Step two, complete.

-x-x-x-x-x-

After bolstering himself with a hyper-caffeinated coffee to make up for his missed hours of sleep, Donald spent his morning checking his hides were undisturbed and examining the feeds from his drones. No units had been lost, and their coverage of the complex seemed complete. Donald quickly counted a total of forty Stray Exorcists in residence, including the red-eyed, white-haired Freed Sellzen.

That was expected; what wasn’t, was the complete absence of any Fallen Angels.

Donald gripped the tablet which the surveillance feeds were coming into tightly, staring into space as he ran his options. The odds of him having been discovered seemed miniscule; Sellzen or the Fallen would have just killed him if they’d detected him. There had been no signs of anything having even come near his hides, and blazing through the recordings from the previous night showed that nothing bigger than an owl seemed to have discovered his hides.

So, that being the case, why were the four Fallen Angels that were meant to be in Kuoh missing?

The beeping of an alarm broke him from his contemplation, and his thoughts sped up beyond any real coherence for a few moments before Donald forcibly shook his head and got to his feet.

He needed more information.

Opening his bag to reveal a space more suitable to a decently sized room, he tapped at his tablet for a few seconds until a whirring sound started up among the neatly stacked boxes and other containers that lay within. Donald had just enough time to cross the room and open the window before several palm-sized quad-copter drones flew out of the bag’s entrance, arranging themselves within the space of the room.

Several more commands went into the tablet, and the drones vanished from view even as the whirring of their rotors went silent. Even their controller had to check the tablet to see whether or not they’d left the room before he closed the window, exchanged the tablet for a laptop, and settled down on the bed.

There was still work to do.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The aerial drones were, despite all the measures he’d taken, considerably more likely to be discovered than the miniature ground-types. They also didn’t have the utility that he himself did. Both of those factors combined had made Donald reluctant to use them if he didn’t have to, but the situation had forced his hand.

Most of the drones had been deployed to scout the city, their recognition software programmed for the best descriptions of the Fallen Angels that Donald could give them. Meanwhile, one of them was under his direct control, and that one was hovering a kilometre above the entrance to Kuoh Academy.

While Saturday hadn’t been a required school day in Japan for years, certain schools still ran optional classes and other activities on the weekends for various reasons. In the case of Kuoh Academy, those were as extended study for students who were struggling or just wanted to put in more work...and as punishments for disruptive students and rule-breakers.

Keeping this in mind, it wasn’t much of a surprise that Issei Hyoudou was one of the people who had to attend.

Still, the Academy only ran such classes until around noon, and it didn’t take long until the brunet himself emerged from the gates looking tired, waving to his friends as they parted ways in front of the school.

The drone followed along Hyoudou’s route for several minutes, with Donald recording its feed to make sure he had a record of the route in case of future need.

Then, it happened.

Hyoudou paused in his walk, leaning on the railing of a bridge above a road, staring down at the asphalt as he presumably thought to himself...until he was approached by a girl with black hair, violet eyes and a dark red school uniform jacket.

_ “Um, Hyoudou, are you...seeing anyone at the moment?” _

The whole exchange took less than a minute.

And as Hyoudou yelled joyously to the sky, practically leaping down the road towards his home, every thought overtaken with the date he’d made for that Sunday…

Donald took a screenshot, and stared for several moments at the face of ‘Yuuma Amano’ and the look of disgust that it had been twisted into as she turned her back on the teen.

Target confirmed.

Stage three, tentatively complete.

-x-x-x-x-x-

‘Yuuma’, or more accurately the Fallen Angel Raynare, shed the likeness of a schoolgirl in an alleyway, visibly aging as her uniform melted into more stylish apparel until she emerged onto the street as a fairly stunning young adult. The drone tracked her until she entered a hotel, whereupon it circled the building with its focus on the windows until it identified her in the penthouse apartment.

Donald snorted to himself, but still recorded the information as he left the drone on overwatch to report if the Fallen left the building.

In the meantime, he redirected the other drones, sending them to repeat the process on the city’s various other hotels with the supposition that he may just have been wrong about the Fallen staying at the church. With little else to be done in the immediate future, he ate a simple lunch in the quietest corner of the hotel’s restaurant, then returned to his room and considered what to do with his time.

The various drones were doing their work, his hunger was sated, he’d checked and re-checked all his equipment, the hides were undisturbed and the next stage of the plan would have to wait until the rest of the Fallen were found or Hyoudou’s date happened, whichever came first.

Left somewhat stumped for a moment, Donald’s eyes finally fell on his phone where it lay beside the tablet.

It  _ had _ been a couple of days…

He’d unlocked the device and dialled a contact just a few moments later, and it rang three times before the other end picked up.

_ “Maxwell residence, Billy speaking.” _

“Hey granda,” Donald greeted.

_ “Donald!” _ the elderly, accented voice replied, cheering up considerably and losing the somewhat sleepy tone it had before.  _ “You don’t have to call so early just because we didn’t hear from you yesterday y’know...unless there’s something wrong?” _

“I’m fine granda,” the younger man assured. “I’m just busy. I completely forgot to call yesterday, and it just popped into my head now, so…”

_ “Well, we’re always happy to hear from you,” _ Billy assured him.  _ “Just try not to get so wrapped up in your work…though then again, I suppose if you were going to relax a bit, you’d have done it already.” _

Donald winced. “...Yeah.”

_ “Don’t be sorry lad,” _ Billy told the teen, picking up on his tone easily.  _ “I know your work means a lot to ye. It’s not like I’m one to talk, anyway!” _

_ “That you’re not Billy,” _ agreed another voice, equally aged but distinctly feminine.  _ “Now shift yer chassis over and let me talk to my grandson.” _

A smile flickered over Donald’s face as he leaned back on the bed, propped up by the pillows. “Hello gaggies.”

_ “Hello Donald. How are you doing sweetheart? Are you eating properly?” _

“I just came back from lunch gaggies, I’m eating fine,” Donald replied.

_ “Don’t pester the boy Maggie,” _ Billy interjected.  _ “He eats just fine when he’s here doesn’t he?” _

_ “He only eats well  _ because _ I pester him!” _ Maggie declared.  _ “He gets it from your side of the family - you were just as bad when you were younger.” _

_ “If I spent more time eating when we were younger, we wouldn’t have had food  _ to _ eat!” _

Donald sighed, closing his eyes as the corners of his lips twitched upwards. “Should I leave you two alone?”

_ “Don’t think you’ll get away  _ that _ easily, Donald Maxwell,” _ Maggie replied.  _ “Calling at six in the morning...you need your sleep young man! You’ll dye your whole cheeks purple at this rate.” _

“Yes gaggies,” Donald sighed, not out of frustration, but in relief at the familiar admonishment.

_ “And you’re really alright lad?” _ Billy asked.

“I’m really fine granda,” Donald reiterated. “I just didn’t want to leave the call until tomorrow.”

_ “Well we’re glad to hear it,” _ Billy declared.  _ “But there’s no need to wake up early on our account.” _

_ “Go back to bed Donald,” _ Maggie broke in.  _ “Read a book if you aren’t feeling sleepy. And come around soon, I’m planning to make bread and butter pudding.” _

Despite having eaten just recently, Donald felt his stomach rumble slightly.

“I wouldn’t miss it gaggies,” he assured her. “I’ll be by this week. I’ve got some time-sensitive projects to finish this weekend.”

_ “Alright then love,” _ Maggie sighed.  _ “You take care now.” _

“I will gaggies.”

_ “And sleep well,” _ Billy chimed in.  _ “You’re only young once, don’t go wasting that energy just to keep yourself awake.” _

“I won’t granda.”

_ “We love you, Donald,” _ Maggie added, finally.

“Love you too,” the teen replied quietly.

Then there was a  _ click, _ and the line was closed.

Donald’s hand flopped down on the bed, his phone bouncing away a little as he loosened his grip, and he sighed once more as his eyes slipped closed.

Maybe resting wasn’t such a bad idea…

  
-x-x-x-x-x-

Donald’s eyes snapped open as his laptop started beeping, and he blearily dragged himself into sitting upright as he groped for the device and pulled it into his lap.

A quick check of the time showed that it was about eight in the evening, and the alert was coming from one of the drones he’d assigned to investigating the hotels. Apparently it had identified one of the targets - and, bringing up the feed, Donald found himself looking at a fairly tall woman with a long, dark-blue ponytail and violet eyes. She wasn’t wearing what his memories said she should be, but even in the almost scandalously short evening dress that was causing her dinner partner’s IQ to visibly drop, she was still identifiable.

_ ‘So that’s Kalawarner accounted for,’ _ Donald thought to himself.  _ ‘But there’s still no sign of the others…’ _

The odds that the other two Fallen that were meant to be in Kuoh would turn up before Sunday were becoming longer and longer. That being the case, Donald found himself pacing back and forth, considering his options.

The plan as it had previously stood was salvageable. The information he had based it on was still largely reliable, and the most major points seemed unchanged. He might not be able to make as clean a sweep of things as he’d wanted, but so long as he achieved the primary goal those loose ends would probably hurt his perfectionism more than anything else…

_ ‘No, wait, if there are still two Fallen Angels roaming the city then…’ _

Grimacing, Donald stopped pacing, sitting on the bed instead.

Dohnaseek and Mittelt would be too troublesome to leave as loose ends. It would be better to take care of them - the best case scenario would for it to happen as part of the main plan, but if he was willing to stick around until he found them, then he could probably prevent any major issues.

The only problem would be arranging to extend his stay in Japan…

But then again, Ajuka  _ did _ owe him a few vacation days.

Nodding to himself, Donald got to his feet once more, deciding to get some dinner from the hotel’s restaurant and then go back to bed.

It was going to be a busy day tomorrow.


	3. Chapter Two: Another Angel Down

Chapter Two: Another Angel Down

**Donald**

Morning came with a snap for Donald as the sharp repetitions of his alarm emanated from the bedside cabinet. Rolling upright and wiping the sleep out of his eyes, he pulled on his boots—the only part of his attire that he’d seen fit to remove before falling onto the bed the night before—and tapped his laptop awake to check the surveillance feeds once more.

Most of the Stray Exorcists beneath the church were still asleep; the few that weren’t were concentrated in the kitchen, dining area and bath. Meanwhile, the drone assigned to Kalawarner had its feed tinted by a shade of red, an indicator reading ‘HEAT’ flashing in the upper corner as it focussed on two humanoid signatures lying together through what seemed to be closed curtains.

Raynare didn’t seem to have partnered up, but there were several empty bottles of alcohol scattered across the penthouse she was staying in.

Not bothering with hope, Donald checked the rest of the drones’ feeds out of obligation and wasn’t surprised to find that they had universally failed to find Dohanseek or Mittelt. Debating with himself for a moment, he decided to leave them running rather than recall them, and instead made his final preparations.

His cloak was already around his shoulders, so that was fine. Patting his various pockets, he whispered their contents to himself and checked off a mental list before nodding. Crossing the room to the same bag that he’d kept the drones in, he extended a hand towards a guitar case resting against one of the expanded space’s walls and a faint green nimbus formed around his hand. A similar light formed around the case, and it only took a couple of seconds to lift into the air and travel into Donald’s hand handle-first.

Laying it on the bed, he snapped it open and lifted the lid, staring at the contents for a moment. Reaching inside, he produced a basic handgun, which lifted into the air in front of him in a verdant grip before being disassembled. Donald ran his eyes over each component, the cloud of parts rotating on command to give a different angle, then nodded to himself as the gun was reassembled. It slotted firmly into a holster from the case, and he set it down on the bed with care.

The case slid shut and, leaving it close at hand, he settled on the bed with his eyes on his laptop, drawing up one drone’s feed in particular.

Five minutes later, Issei Hyoudou exited his house and began his journey to Kuoh Academy.

There were another four and a half hours at  _ least _ until Hyoudou was meant to so much as begin his date with ‘Yuuma’...but with the irregularities that had appeared thus far, Donald wasn’t going to be taking any chances.

And so, he resigned himself to witnessing a day in the life of Issei Hyoudou.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Ten minutes later, the boy met up with his friends - and as the conversation made its way to Donald through the directional microphones on the drone, he realised he was going to need something considerably stronger than resignation.

_ ‘God I wish I was old enough to drink.’ _

-x-x-x-x-x-

Come Kuoh’s classes letting out, Donald’s ability to cringe had been long-since burnt out, leaving him staring at his laptop with eyes that were just as glassy as the screen itself. A part of him died on the inside knowing that, since the footage from his drones was being automatically saved onto his private servers in the lab’s network, he had now added the private measurements of at least a dozen Japanese schoolgirls to the library of Devilkind’s accumulated knowledge, courtesy of one ‘Three-Sizes Scouter’ Motohama.

The rest of him mechanically chewed on a granola bar that tasted like ashes in his mouth as the Perverted Trio left the academy grounds, Issei waving goodbye to his friends before making his way home as quickly as possible.

The fact that he was breathing hard and thus unable to actually speak at any point during that journey felt like divine intervention, and Donald slowly regained feeling in his immortal soul as the teenager ran into his house in school uniform and left maybe ten minutes later in street clothes before heading for the nearest bus-stop.

Checking the drone that was tailing Raynare, Donald found her through the window of what appeared to be a fairly high-class sushi bar, where she was eating with a man in a well-cut business suit.

She and Kalawarner seemed to be crows of a feather.

Still, when the set time for the date was only ten minutes away or so, she faked a phone call and left the bar in a hurry, saddling the businessman with the bill and ducking into an alleyway to once more assume the guise of ‘Yuuma’.

Donald took that as his cue to tie up the remaining loose ends. A few taps of the keyboard and a click of the mouse went by without hesitation, but as a magic circle appeared over his hands, the teen stared at it for a long moment in hesitation. His gaze flickered to the laptop screen, and especially to the minimised video feeds coming from the land-based drones…

Then the twist to his mouth and the furrow of his brow faded away, and he muttered a few keywords into the circle.

It flashed once then disappeared, and Donald glanced once more at the minimised window before closing it entirely.

Letting out a deep breath, the Scotsman returned his attention to the flying drone feeds as Raynare emerged onto Kuoh’s main pedestrian shopping thoroughfare. About a minute later, Issei appeared, looking distinctly nervous but also craning his neck looking around for her.

Donald panned the drone around and breathed easy as he spotted a slip of paper in the boy’s back pocket.

At least  _ that _ hadn’t been butterflied away.

The date, which lasted the rest of the afternoon, was neither quality entertainment nor soul-crushing torture. The two bounced around what seemed like every shop and games corner on the entire street, dropping into a cafe at one point and holding a fairly long conversation, with Issei adding what seemed like most of his life story into the mix while Raynare avoided saying anything about herself at all.

It was almost surreal to watch the smile on Hyoudou’s face, knowing the context of the situation.

But as the sun began to set, and Raynare literally led Issei by the hand off the populated street and towards the quieter part of town where most of the parks were found, Donald moved off the bed and began doing stretches.

By the time their destination had been narrowed down to exactly one park, he was fully limber and he’d re-checked his inventory.

A few quick taps and the feed from the tracking drone had been transferred to his phone, replaced on the laptop’s screen with the camera feed that park’s hide was broadcasting. The holster was lifted from the bed and fitted to an open spot on his belt, sufficiently far along his waist that it was covered by his cloak. Then, with his guitar case in hand, Donald moved to a cleared spot in the middle of the room, kept his limbs close to his body and focussed intently on the image from the camera.

**“Portare. Portamus. Portamini. Winged feet. Eliminator of all distance. Take me from here.”**

A large magic circle spun into existence above his head with its mirror image at his feet, and for a moment his entire body felt  _ fuzzy _ as green light engulfed him from the soles of his boots to the top of his scalp – then the spell was over, and the hotel room had been replaced with the treeline of the park Issei and Raynare were approaching.

Quickly hunkering down, Donald propped up his phone on the ground with its folding cover and opened the guitar case once more, keeping one eye on his phone as he reached inside.

The first thing to emerge was a bipod, the legs of which were quickly spread until they were almost one continuous horizontal line before it was put down. Then, came a long, fairly hefty weapon that looked a bit like a grenade launcher with a watering can’s head over its mouth and a sniper rifle up its ass. Forty-nine cylindrical chambers were spaced in an even circle around the main muzzle, each of them about the right size to put a marble in, and the barrel itself was about the right length for a rifle but with a launcher’s thickness. The gun’s main body was bulbous like a launcher, but the stock that it ended in was pure sniper.

That stock was pressed against Donald’s shoulder as his left hand took hold of a grip about midway up the barrel and his right hand settled on the main grip, his index finger off the trigger.

With the weapon in his hands, the teen lowered himself into a full prone position, resting the far end of the barrel on the bipod and looking down the gun’s length like he was aiming a rifle as he closed his left eye. The weapon didn’t have a scope, and any that might have been placed on it would have had its view blocked by the extra muzzles...but instead, the air in front of Donald’s right eye went technicolour for a moment before settling into a clear image projected from inside the muzzle itself.

Raising his head from the weapon, the image disappeared, and Donald was able to look at his phone with a glance.

Issei and Raynare had just entered the park.

He was able to hear the two’s voices barely seconds later, and when he returned to aiming he could see the duo hove into view.

Donald’s lips twitched as the two walked right into the sightline he’d figured out days before, but otherwise his expression was completely empty as every thought drained away into the background.

The only things that existed in those moments were the image in front of him, the sounds of his breath and heartbeat, and the feeling of the trigger as his finger slid beneath the guard.

He remained in that suspended state for what felt like hours but was really only half a minute at most, as Raynare gradually distanced herself from Issei, her back facing him. He didn’t move a muscle as the disguise of ‘Yuuma’ fell away, Issei taking several steps back; instead, almost every part of his body relaxed. The air passed from his lungs with a whisper, his heart slowed almost to a stop...and as a jagged purple spear of light appeared in the Fallen Angel’s hand and she reared back to throw, pulling the trigger didn’t feel like an action.

It felt like a release.

The shot was perfect; the gun and its payload worked flawlessly, the wind was still and there hadn’t been so much as a heartbeat to disturb it. Donald had been taking advantage of his Underworld entry-pass to spend off-time in some of the shooting ranges that Reincarnated Devils had opened up in the Devil capital of Lilith, and a few faked documents were more than enough to let him acquire a small armoury in America. He’d landed far more difficult shots in the various courses that the Underworld had to offer.

The only  _ slight _ issue with what followed was that by the time that payload had left its space-expanded delivery system and reached its intended destination, the target had been slammed to the ground by several dozen kilograms of muscle and a spear.

The haft of that spear was promptly torn right off the weapon as a painstakingly-enchanted, gold-titanium net weighing more than a metric ton blasted through it at a speed slightly under Mach One and continued on to hit a tree, which it promptly snapped in half and carried several metres forward before crashing to the ground.

Even as conscious thought returned to Donald, his lungs drawing in a new breath and his heartbeat picking up once more, he found himself staring into a face the colour of molten copper, shrouded by a blood-red mane as a heat-haze shimmered around two large, cherry-red horns.

He’d barely finished parsing what his eyes were seeing when he shot to his knees, practically slammed his net launcher into its case again, snatched his phone and incanted his teleportation aria at the speed of a professional auctioneer.

And yet, even as his surroundings once more transformed in a flash of green light, he felt that the catlike eyes his magic had brought so close were boring into him.

With his heartbeat thumping in his ears now, his breath coming ragged and his hands shaking a bit as the net launcher and its case dropped to the floor with a  _ thud, _ Donald could only manage one real thought.

“... _ Fuck.” _

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Junichiro**

As the unfamiliar magical signature vanished in tandem with a pair of unmistakably  _ human _ magic circles, Junichiro turned his eyes back to the prone Fallen pinned beneath him. He shifted his position, his knee digging into her shoulder blades and causing her wings to stiffen uncomfortably even as threats, profanity, and general vitriol poured impotently from her mouth. One hand tossed the asymmetrical head of his now-broken sickle-spear to one side while the other snagged first one wrist and then the other, pinning them to the small of the enraged murderess' back.

After what felt like minutes, but was in actuality more like thirty seconds, Raynare had to pause her tirade for breath, and Junichiro took that opportunity to cut in. "Ya'  _ really  _ don't get it, do ya'?"

"Get  _ what _ , you upjumped ape?!" Raynare snarled, squirming against the dirt. "When I get free, you will rue the day you crossed me!"

"Ya' know, I don't think I will," Junichiro replied with a snort, his free hand diving into the folds of his gi and emerging with a pair of fliers. As he poured intent into them, he spared a glance at Issei Hyoudou, who was currently sprawled on the ground, arms propping him up. Thankfully, the boy seemed uninjured, though judging from the terrified, wide-eyed expression on his face, he wasn't taking the whirlwind of events all that well.

_ 'Can't blame him. He got dumped ass first into the deep end, with no water wings or nothin'. _

Junichiro shook his head slightly and returned his attention to Raynare, who had fruitlessly redoubled her struggling upon seeing the flyers begin to glow.

"Calm your tits, crow," he snapped, jerking her to her feet none-too-gently. "You're lucky I'm not in the killin' mood, or I'd’ve already painted this park with your guts."

In reply, Raynare merely lunged forward, wings beating wildly as she tried to break out of his grip, but Junichiro's grip remained firm. 

"...Aight, then," Junichiro remarked placidly, before slamming the side of his free hand—now aglow with chakra—into the Fallen's neck. Raynare's eyes promptly rolled back in her head and she slumped forward, unconscious.

Mere moments later, the glow on the flier faded as twin summoning sigils traced themselves into the air. One was crimson, carrying flair, elegance, and not a small measure of dramatics as it unfolded. The other was deep blue, exactingly precise, and eminently efficient as it carved itself into the air without pomp or circumstance.

As Rias and Sona emerged from the circles, still clad in their school uniforms, Issei Hyoudou’s eyes bulged further as he worked his jaw, words seeming to abandon him entirely.

“I caught me a Fallen,” Junichiro stated blandly, shaking the slumped form of Raynare in the heiresses’ direction. Rias smiled faintly at his antics, before turning away to help Issei to his feet. As the brunet turned a bright shade of red at the contact, Rias motioned to a nearby park bench, and sat him down, presumably to help him regain his bearings.

Sona took in the scene with a critical eye, her bespectacled gaze pausing on the Fallen, on Issei, and on the tree that had been shattered by that unknown mage’s device in turn.

“I see,” Sona replied after a moment, adjusting her glasses. “And what was she doing?”

“Well, I only arrived for the tail end,” Junichiro hedged, “but  _ she, _ ” he shook Raynare again, “pulled out a light spear and tried to kill Hyoudou.” He flashed his teeth in a vicious, dark smile. “I didn’t like that, see?”

“Quite,” Sona replied. “And  _ that?” _ She waved at the shattered tree.

“...That, I ain’t too sure ‘bout. All I know is some magician shot off a weapon at the crow, then scarpered when he missed.” He scratched at the base of one of his horns. “‘Course, he only missed ‘cause I tackled her outta the air.” At this, he thrust Raynare’s limp form forward. “You wanna take her? I’ll go check out whatever he shot off.”

Sona gave a nod, before gesturing at the comatose Fallen. A series of small blue magic circles appeared behind the Sitri heiress, before chains made of water shot out of each and wrapped around Raynare snugly. In short order, the Fallen was constricted in a cocoon of interwoven water chains, with only her head remaining free.

Junichiro exhaled, and let his horns recede back into his head. His skin tone returned to its more human shade, and his long crimson locks seemed to shuck away, leaving behind only his much more mundane black hair. Last to go were his golden, cat-like eyes, returning to their duller coloration in the space between blinks.

As he walked towards the mess that the magician’s weapon had made, he paused long enough to gather the shattered remains of his  _ own  _ weapon. With a flick of his right wrist, the broken pieces of his spear disappeared into that same wrist — or rather, into the tattoo on it that served as the anchor for a small pocket dimension.

Upon approaching the shattered tree, Junichiro let out a low whistle. Whatever that magician had launched at Raynare, it positively  _ exuded  _ an aura of magic. And when Junichiro laid eyes on the golden net, he easily saw why. Human enchantments were a damn sight different to the sorts his Ma would put on the weapons she forged for young Oni, but he could still tell quality work when he saw it, and this?

This was some  _ damn _ fine work. He could almost  _ see _ the hundreds of hours put into refining, reworking, and perfecting all the different enchantments, making sure they interwove with one another rather than interfered with one another.

He squatted down to grasp one of the golden orbs, and found very quickly that they didn’t just  _ look _ like gold; they  _ were _ , and  _ damn  _ heavy because of it. 

Junichiro sighed. He should’ve stayed in Oni form.

After calling Rias over and helping her haul the net into her personal pocket dimension (Devil magic was  _ so _ unfair), Junichiro left the shell-shocked Issei in the heiresses’ hands.

He had a magician to track down.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

**Donald**

The hotel room had been almost completely cleaned out within five minutes of Donald’s teleportation.

Only one of those minutes had been necessary to pack away the sparse items that he’d removed from his bags; the remaining four had been spent running magic circles over every inch of the walls, floor, ceiling and furniture to obliterate any physical evidence of his having been there while he waited for his drones to make their way back.

His breathing was more or less back under control by this point, but his hands were unsteady as they directed sweeping beams of light over the room’s surfaces. There were so many thoughts running through his mind - who was the being that had interrupted his attempted capture?  _ What _ were they? Who did they work for? Why had they been there in the first place? Had they been watching him? If they had, then for how long?

What had happened to the boy?

None of those were answers he was likely to find any time soon. Assuming a worst-case scenario it was entirely possible that he was minutes to seconds away from coming under a full-on siege by enemies unknown, and the wards he’d put on the hotel room were good but not  _ that _ good. He couldn’t do anything about the net, which was a bitch and a half, nor the bipod, nor the hides or the drones in the church; the last piece of evidence he was sure he could gather were the aerial drones, and what should be the second-to-last of those shimmered into visibility as it flew through the window and into the duffle bag.

The doorknob became briefly opalescent as he turned the magic circle on it, and when the light faded so too did the last of his fingerprints, leaving Donald to backstep into the centre of the room and just  _ wait. _

His fingers twitched as he kept his eyes moving around the room, particularly towards the open window; formula after formula rolled across his mind’s eye as he waited for the first sign of company. His breath was loud in his ears and his tongue was thick in his mouth, and it felt like the time between his heartbeats was stretching wider and wider.

Then, at last, the last drone became visible, and Donald slammed the window shut behind it before practically diving across the room to zip up the duffle before the drone had even touched down. Slinging the bag onto his back, he spoke his aria, feeling the beginnings of relief as the magic circles formed…

And then his heart stopped as both circles slowed to a crawl, their green fading to white-blue before shattering into fleeting snow.

“It’s very rude to leave a hotel without checking out, you know.”

The voice itself was  _ not _ intimidating. It was more girlish than womanly, faintly amused, and entirely carefree.

The figure it belonged to was, similarly, unthreatening - standing more than a full head shorter than Donald himself, the impressively long black pigtails with lilac ribbons and modest, almost old-fashioned green button-up jacket with shin-length skirt and hiking boots created the image of a girl gone out for an afternoon picnic, right off the cover of a book. She was, if anything, more enrapturing than terrifying.

Like the pristine ice that hides endless fathoms of crushing, soul-leeching waters.

Serafall Leviathan smiled, and Donald found himself wishing that he hadn’t shut the window earlier.

At least the fall would have had an abrupt end.

“Why don’t we sit down?” Serafall ‘suggested’, gesturing to the sofa that had been setup across from a wide-screen television.

It took Donald a few seconds to regain conscious control of his legs, but he managed to get them moving, trudging the distance and just barely managing not to drop straight down onto the cushions like a discarded puppet.

On the bright side, if he was about to die, at least he’d be doing it in relative comfort. It was a very nice sofa.

Serafall dropped onto the other end of the sofa with graceful ease, humming to herself. “Well, you’ve had a pretty busy weekend, Donald.”

Despite himself, Donald couldn’t help but start slightly at the use of his name, and he almost voiced the question before catching the words halfway up his throat and swallowing them again with a slight choke. Regardless of that though, Serafall still chuckled. “Well, of course I know your name; Ajuka talks about you pretty often.”

That revelation more than stilled the words building up on Donald’s tongue, and as he tried to process it Serafall sighed. “It’s not like I’m going to blame you for coming here; Kuoh’s a pretty nice place to go as far as weekends off are concerned,” she told him. “I mean, I come here every time I  _ get _ a day off!

“And as far as hobbies go I think photography’s a wonderful choice. There’s nothing quite like being able to capture a beautiful moment in time forever.

“That said…”

Serafall turned to look at him properly for the first time since they’d sat down, and what little tension had left Donald’s body with the conversation thus far came roaring back with a vengeance. “The only one who gets to take pictures of my little Sona is  _ me. _ ”

Donald swallowed.

“I have to admit I wasn’t very happy with you when I first heard about your little toys flying all around the city,” Serafall continued, still staring into Donald’s eyes. “Actually, I was about ready to give you a piece of my mind - Sirzechs was too, as a matter of fact.”

Donald couldn’t swallow this time. Mostly because his mouth had gone as dry as the Sahara in high summer, and it felt like that desiccation was spreading down his throat and through his insides, draining away the life in what it touched. “But Ajuka asked me to be nice about it, so I decided to come and take a look around myself.”

Finally, the Satan blinked, and if he hadn’t already been pressed against the sofa’s backrest in an effort to make as much distance as possible between himself and Serafall, Donald may well have shot backwards as the connection between his own grey eyes and Serafall’s violet was severed. Serafall crossed her arms, pouting slightly. “Well, you might have terrible taste for not focussing on my Sona, but I suppose I shouldn’t be angry about it.”

Donald couldn’t quite help the feeling that there was really no winning in this situation.

“I don’t know how you knew about that little crow that was hunting Sona’s schoolmate, but I don’t think you were doing anything I’d have to make you regret here, so I’m willing to let it slide…” Abruptly, Serafall’s relatively diminutive stature seemed to be entirely irrelevant, because even from the other end of the sofa Donald felt like she was looming over him. “But you’re going to give me  _ all _ the pictures and video with Sona in them.”

“...Yes ma’am.”

Donald didn’t even know if he  _ had _ the Sitri heir on any of the surveillance footage, but he wasn’t about to say that to Serafall’s face.

“We found out the rats underneath that old church hadn’t moved out yet, or that other crow, so we’ll deal with them,” Serafall continued, and Donald suddenly had a bad feeling. “My little Sona’s already got the one in the park, so I’ll just round up the stragglers and find out why they thought they could ignore my precious little sister and get away with it.”

Despite the glint in Serafall’s eye—or, perhaps, because of it—Donald couldn’t really stop himself from slowly raising a hand.

Serafall tilted her head quizzically. “Oh? Is there something you wanted to say?”

There really,  _ really  _ wasn’t.

“...About those stragglers…”

-x-x-x-x-x-

“Huh. I have to admit, this isn’t really what I was expecting.”

Serafall hunkered down, prodding a pale cheek as the corpse it belonged to slowly cooled on the underground bunker’s stone flooring. There were several more just like it in the entry corridor alone, and Donald was well aware that the scene would continue deeper into the structure.

“What did you do again?” Serafall asked, getting back up and dusting off her skirt as she walked deeper into the bunker.

“Alchemy,” Donald replied, his words clipped and his tone tightly controlled as he stepped around the bodies on the floor. “I set the circles last night. First the vents were sealed, then the air inside transformed into carbon monoxide.”

They started passing bedrooms at that point. Some of them were still occupied, most simply had the doors sitting ajar.

Serafall paused at one closed door, then pulled it open - a body flopped out backwards, torso thumping on the floor. They’d been sitting with their back to it apparently, and there was a bunched-up towel along the underside of the doorframe.

Quick thinking.

But not quick enough.

“Shortness of breath instantly, nausea, headaches and dizziness within a minute, unconsciousness within two minutes…”

The corridor broadened into the communal dining area, and the two stood in the doorway beholding the scene. Half-eaten food on the table, some of the Stray Exorcists slumped over into what they’d been eating at the time. Several bodies piled up near the vents, gashes and burn marks on the stone walls from where Light weapons had been turned on them. Atop one of those piles, Donald could pick out the vaguely familiar, maniacally twisted features of Freed Sellzen.

In the corner, two white-robed figures were clutching one another.

“Death within five minutes.”

The Satan and the teenager stood in the very literal dead silence of the bunker for another few moments. Then Serafall sighed and turned back around.

“Well, I’ll have someone come take a look and see if there’s anything interesting in here, but I guess we’d better go and see about the other crow. C’mon.”

It was several seconds after Serafall left that Donald finally turned away from the corner.

-x-x-x-x-x-

“And what happened  _ here?” _ Serafall asked, waving a hand at the bed in front of her. The body that was currently lying on it was difficult to recognise; red with burns all over, the eyes were missing, and there were oddly-coloured stains on the fabric by the ears. Even the shape was different, as if the body had fallen in on itself a bit.

In the end, only the long blue hair and black wings gave credence to the fact that this had once been the Fallen Angel Kalawarner.

“Drone strike,” Donald said shortly. “High-power microwave radiation focussed through the glass and curtains. She boiled from the inside out.”

Serafall shook her head. “I think I’m starting to see why Ajuka likes you so much.”

Donald remained silent, looking down on the corpse in front of him.  _ ‘The damage is less severe than I’d anticipated. I’ll have to rework the focussing arrays on the drones.’ _

Serafall sighed once more. “Well, we’ll make sure to have the hotel staff and her ‘date’ hypnotised. We should probably give the body to the Grigori, too.” She turned to Donald. “I’ll talk to you again in a few days to make sure all the questions get answered. In the meantime, I suggest heading back to the Underworld.”

Donald looked up and nodded silently, glanced once more at the body, then left the room with Serafall.

Outside the room, Serafall paused and extended an arm across Donald’s path, the Scotsman instantly coming to a halt and doing his best to bend away from the limb without moving his feet or falling over backwards. “Out of curiosity,” the Satan began, “I have to ask - what do you think’s so special about that other crow that you’d keep her alive and not this one or the rats?”

Donald’s right hand twitched a little towards the weight on his hip.

“Nothing at all.”

There was a moment’s pause, and Serafall hummed. “Do you really think that the boy would thank you for...what? False hope? Sparing him the sight?”

The teen snorted. “Of course not.”

“Then why bother?”

Donald, who’d kept his eyes fixed forward since leaving the hotel room, turned to look at the Satan and met her eyes once more. “Why not?”

Serafall held the gaze he’d started for several long seconds - enough that Donald began to wonder if he’d just made a fatal mistake. But he was still alive when she blinked, clasping her hands behind her back and chuckling. “I suppose you have your differences from Ajuka, too.” The Satan turned away, beginning her walk down the hotel’s corridor towards the elevators. “See you again soon, Donald.”

The teen remained in place until the elevator doors had closed behind Serafall, flinching as she winked at him through the last remaining sliver.

Seconds later, he disappeared in a burst of forest-green. Reappearing in his hotel room, his expression flexed momentarily, his eyes and mouth twisting, before he shook himself and his expression straightened out. He grabbed his duffle bag from where he’d left it and headed out the door. A minute later, he’d checked out, and he teleported back to his laboratory from the nearest convenient alley.

He barely made it to the bin before throwing up, and when he finally stopped dry-heaving more than an hour later, he dragged himself to the desk and opened the archive of footage he’d created that weekend.

It was a long, long night, but by morning he’d compiled every sighting of Sona Sitri that he could find, bundled together in a folder on his desktop. There were, however, two others set beside it - one labelled ‘Church’, the other ‘Crow’.

Donald’s eyes were barely open at this point. The bags beneath them were a sickly dark colour, standing out especially against his pallid skin. Still, though, they focussed on the screen as he opened the first folder.

Maybe it was an empty gesture to watch their final moments now, when he’d turned away from them as it happened...

But he watched anyway.

Because in the end…

Why not?

* * *

**AN:...Yeah, we’ve been sitting on this one for quite a while, but our old beta is just too busy with IRL stuff, so Teninshigen and I have decided that, in the interest of updating more frequently, we’re gonna use someone new from now on. Apologies for the inconvenience, hopefully this will mean more frequent updates going forward.**


	4. Chapter Three: Friends in Low Places

Chapter Three: Friends in Low Places

**Junichiro**

Once more, Junichiro found himself in Kuoh’s Student Council room, though this time the curtains were open and the desk was occupied by Sona, rather than Rias. Afternoon light shone through the windows and gave the room a much warmer feeling than the last time he’d been there, though the foreboding darkness had ultimately been nothing more than a means of enhancing Rias’ flair for the dramatic.

Despite the warmer atmosphere, though, Sona’s countenance was anything but. From the furrow in her brow to the tautness of her shoulder blades as she loomed over her desk, every inch of the bespectacled girl spelled agitation. Thankfully, though, some small measure of her intensity was directed at the chessboard between the two, or more accurately, the chess  _ pieces _ between them.

“And you’re certain of this?” she asked, moving a Knight forward with a  _ clack _ . A cloud of frustration wreathed her features so completely that it only could’ve been more palpable were it conjured of her magic. Of course, Sona wasn’t the type to waste magic on such a blatant display; that sort of frivolity was in  _ Rias’  _ wheelhouse.

“As near sure as I can well be, yeah,” Junichiro replied, smoothly sliding a Rook forward to intercept. “The mage had gone and scarpered by the time I found his hideout, but his magic weren’t the only one stainin’ the room, not by half.” The half-blood shrugged. “And when it’s Satan-level ice magic you’re talkin’, one name stands out, yeah?”

Sona gave a grimace, moving her own Rook forward before nodding. “Indeed, especially considering both my... _ dear sister’s _ particular personality traits as well as the proximity to Rias and myself.” She adjusted her glasses and gave a sigh, some tension bleeding away and being replaced with  _ disappointment _ . 

“I realize that Lady Leviathan and Lord Lucifer keep their eyes on this town, of course,” Sona admitted as Junichiro made his move, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “Even if their personalities were not what they are, it is natural for elder siblings to worry about their younger ones.

“ _ That being said,” _ Sona continued, almost  _ slamming _ down her Queen as it captured his Rook, her violet eyes flashing with a coldness that was normally reserved for repeat rulebreakers within the Kuoh student body. “If they offer this responsibility to us, to look after this land so graciously entrusted to us by your people, the  _ least _ they can do is refrain from  _ hiring specialists _ to spy on us.”

Abruptly, the Sitri heiress seemed to recover herself, and coughed quietly into her fist upon realizing just  _ who _ she was venting to. “Ah, my apologies, Junichiro. I should not be taking such advantage of your affable nature; it speaks ill of my professionalism.”

Junichiro scoffed, swooping forward with his left-side Knight and taking one of Sona’s Bishops. “Like I keep tellin’ Yuuto, ya’ ain’t gotta be all professional with me. Lady Yasaka might’ve sent me as an envoy, but she also sent me to make  _ friends _ .” He tapped a finger against the top of his King as Sona responded to his move by taking a Bishop of his own. “And when it comes to friends, Oni don’t make it all complicated. I haven’t known y’all for super long, but ya’ll’re good people.”

Sona blinked in mild surprise, surprise which was further compounded when Junichiro castled on his King’s side, the displacement of his Rook putting it in position to pin her own King behind one of her Pawns. The (admittedly cute) expression of surprise on her face was short-lived, however. “I...appreciate that, Junichiro. However,” she said as she smoothly swept a bishop forward to support her Queen, “I would ask that you forgive me; I am... _ unused _ to being so candid with others, with the exception of Rias.” She adjusted her glasses and gave a faint smile. “And the two of us have been friends since we were children.”

Junichiro gave a chuckle as he contemplated his next move. “I getcha; I’m pretty much a stranger, compared to that.” His eyes gleamed as he settled on a move, picking up his Knight. “And it ain’t nothin’ you need to apologise for; don’t nobody take the same road to friendship, but I bet we’ll get there all the same.” His piece came down with a decisive  _ clack _ , taking one of Sona’s Pawns as it did so.  _ “Oute _ —I mean, Check.”

Rather than being surprised again, though, Sona merely pushed up her glasses, making them glint as she reached for her own Knight. “Despite the informal image you put forward and the way you speak, you do remain pleasant company. I could do worse by far when it comes to a...friend.”

Johan let out a louder chuckle. “I’m glad I surpassed yer standards, then!”

Sona’s lips quirked upwards as she set down her Knight with a soft yet decisive  _ clack _ . “Quite.” She met his eyes, a spark of mischief in her own. “Oh, and Junichiro?”

“Aye?” the half-blood replied, cocking his head.

“ _ Tsumi:  _ Checkmate,” Sona said with a smirk, her voice as smooth as butter. Junichiro looked at the board, and sure enough: she had him dead to rights.

_ “HAH!” _ He let out a bark of laughter and flicked his King over as he got to his feet. “I’ll get ya one of these days, mark my words.”

Sona merely gave that same, self-assured smirk, as if to say,  _ “Sure you will.” _ Junichiro chuckled again and turned to go, tossing an affable wave over his shoulder before stuffing his hands into his blazer pockets and ambling out the door.

_ ‘Ma and Miss Yasa were right; meetin’ new people ain’t half bad as long as they ain’t dumbasses.’ _

-x-x-x-x-x-

**Donald**

“Donald, awaken.”

With a groan, bleary grey eyes slightly opened, squinting up at the source of the voice. By the time they had focussed well enough to discern green hair and a lab coat, the rest of the teen they were attached to was scampering to get himself online, shooting to his feet and sending his office chair rolling into the bookshelves behind him as the keyboard he’d fallen asleep on clicked back into position. He opened his mouth to say something, but before his tongue could properly wake up Ajuka raised a hand for silence.

“Be seated Donald.”

By the time Donald had grabbed his chair and resettled, Ajuka had already conjured his own usual furnishing and begun occupying it. The Satan’s expression was as inscrutable as ever, but to Donald that seemed more threatening than comforting. His anxiety only grew with the deepening silence as seconds passed by, Ajuka doing nothing more than sitting in his chair, regarding a spot on the wall somewhere above and behind the teen.

Then, finally, he spoke. “What you do in your time away from this facility is not my concern.”

Whatever Donald had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that.

“Your choice of destinations, activities and possessions are neither my responsibility nor of interest to me, provided they are of a personal nature to you,” Ajuka continued, only confusing the teen even more. “However, I have been told that my responsibilities as your employer include a certain level of monitoring that should encompass my noticing the possibility of events such as those which took place over the last few days.

“With consideration to the number of staff currently in my employ, this task will likely cut significantly into my research time.” Ajuka’s largely blank expression became a frown, and Donald felt like he was trying to swallow his own heart as it made to climb up his throat. “A system will of course be implemented to prevent this, but in the meantime I must take action personally.”

Before Donald could die on the spot from cardiac arrest, Ajuka properly focussed on him for the first time since entering the room, and the teen froze in place. “I require you to inform me of everything that transpired between the time when you left this laboratory last Friday and the time when you returned.”

With the Beelzebub giving him his full attention, Donald wasn’t in much of a mood to decline.

-x-x-x-

Donald didn’t speak a lie to Ajuka during his recounting. He was very, very careful about that.

Yes, he had gone to Kuoh after hearing about it from someone in the Underworld; he’d had a certain interest in Japan for a long time and decided it was finally time to visit.

Yes, he’d brought along his new prototype capture system, a small armoury of surveillance equipment and a firearm; he didn’t want to leave the former in the lab when he’d just finished it, and as for the latter, what kind of self-respecting Magician didn’t take adequate safety precautions?

He noticed the Fallen Angels and Stray Exorcists after having his drones deploy in the area and search for any signs of Stray Devils or other possibly hostile elements, and had taken action from there. After all, how could he have known about them ahead of time when even the Underworld surveillance teams securing the city didn’t?

The human? Learning of his involvement happened as a matter of course in surveilling the Fallen, in the end he was inconsequential except for his unwitting role as bait.

_ Why _ did he decide to take action personally?

Well, they were all going to die anyway when the Underworld found out about them. Their deaths might as well be useful for testing.

Donald didn’t speak a lie to Ajuka. But the blank expression he wore throughout was a falsehood greater than every omitted fact and half-truth.

-x-x-x-

As he finished explaining his meeting with Serafall as best he could, Donald found himself barely able to remain upright in his chair. Whatever amount of sleep he’d had, and not only hadn’t he bothered to check the time upon arriving back in the lab but he didn’t dare look at his watch to check how many hours might have passed since then anyway, it clearly hadn’t been enough. Not only that, but reeling off the words into the empty void which was Ajuka’s prolonged silence had wracked his nerves like few things could.

When he himself ran out of tale to tell, Donald found himself gasping for either air or water, whichever came first. Despite his dry throat, however, he still didn’t dare to move as Ajuka turned off the recording device he’d produced minutes before.

“This should suffice for the investigators. I shall inform you if they require anything else.”

Donald’s fingers gripped the edge of his desk as Ajuka put away the recorder but didn’t move to get up from his chair. A part of the teen wanted to ask whether there was anything else, but the rest either didn’t want to die or, in the case of his throat, simply wouldn’t cooperate in forming words.

“After Serafall brought this subject to my attention, I discussed it further with her and Sirzechs.”

If Donald’s fingernails hadn’t been kept carefully short to avoid the possibility of scraping materials while handling them, they might have torn strips from the desk’s wooden surface with how his fists clenched.

“Having sought their advice, I have been informed that it is abnormal for someone your age to spend so much time at work, or to have such minimal social circles.”

Donald blinked.

Ajuka’s neutral expression didn’t even twitch as he continued. “I am personally unsure as to why this is the case or a cause for concern, but they were quite insistent that I should limit your working hours and require you to socialise among your age group.”

Donald blinked again, his fingers falling limp almost one by one as his hands peeled away from the desk.

“To this end, they have offered a place as an associate of mathematical research at the University of Kuoh, as well as lodging with provided catering and a stipend for personal use.”

The trembling in his back grew worse as Donald felt a cold sweat breaking out across his body, his throat trying desperately to clear itself as he struggled to open his mouth.

“They believe that the two Peerages which currently occupy Kuoh serve perfectly as a diverse group of individuals in your age group which possess ties to both Earth and the Underworld as you do, while Serafall asserts that her younger sister is your intellectual equal and you could not possibly find a better conversation partner,” Ajuka continued, his eyes unfocussing slightly as he seemed to pull on his memory. “Though she also stated that becoming ‘too friendly’ would be hazardous for your wellbeing.”

Finally, by some twist of fate, Donald’s throat suddenly opened. Strength returned to his hands and back, his mouth opened, and he was halfway out of his chair with a stringent denial on his lips when something pinged in Ajuka’s pocket, drawing the Satan’s attention to a translucent green panel that blinked into existence in front of him.

“Ah, it appears the movers have just finished transferring your belongings to your new accommodations.”

The Beelzebub stood from his chair as it dissolved into green motes, making his way across the room as Donald stood frozen in place, leaning over his desk. When Ajuka reached the door, he paused and looked back. “While your hours in the laboratory will be restricted to three-hour periods outside the work hours of your new position and excluding hours between eleven PM and seven AM according to your timezone, I will be delivering the daily paperwork by teleportation circle to your home desk. Please continue to complete it with your usual efficiency.”

The door opened, and the Satan took one step out before pausing a second time. “Ah, yes. I am to wish you luck.”

Ajuka Beelzebub turned around and, with utter seriousness and not a single change in his expression, gave Donald a thumbs up. “Ganbatte.”

The door closed behind him a second later.

A second after  _ that, _ Donald’s back and legs gave out simultaneously, and he crumpled to the floor behind his desk, left to stare up at the ceiling with only a single coherent thought in his mind.

_ ‘I should have just jumped out of the window when I had the chance.’ _

-x-x-x-x-x-

**Junichiro**

The day following the incident in the park, Junichiro attended classes as usual. Little of note happened, though he did hear through the grapevine that Issei Hyoudou had been marked absent. This was worthy of note to the rumor mill only because, despite his particular proclivities, Issei was a diligent student, if average in performance.

It didn’t really surprise Junichiro, though. The poor guy had almost been murdered, and was doubtlessly still digesting everything Rias had explained to him, even if she only went over the basics to keep from overwhelming him. He couldn’t be blamed for taking a day off in the face of having his reality so thoroughly upended.

After classes let out, Junichiro waited around at the gate after sending a text to both Yuuto and Tomoe, figuring they’d want to hang out and talk about what had happened. To his surprise, though, he received a text from Tomoe that Sona and Rias wanted him present in the Student Council room; apparently the Leviathan was going to bring a guest by and as Lady Yasaka’s envoy, he should be present.

Kiba’s reply quickly followed, apologetically asking for a rain check. Apparently he had to take over some of Akeno, Rias’ Queen’s, responsibilities for the day.

With a shrug, the half-blood made his way back into the school and to the council room. When he entered, Sona was in much the same position as the day prior: seated behind her desk with her hands tented, her brow furrowed, and her gaze fixed contemplatively on the middle distance.

Rias, on the other hand, was seated in one of the chairs opposite the desk, flipping through a well-worn manga volume as she waited. A chess board sat abandoned between the two, with the pieces on Rias’ side in disarray, her King in checkmate and toppled. By comparison, Sona’s formation had scarcely been disrupted.

As Junichiro closed the door behind him, both heiresses looked up. Sona adjusted her glasses and unfolded her hands, giving him a nod, while Rias slipped a velvet-red and expensive-looking bookmark into her manga and closed it, shooting him a polite smile.

The redhead had barely opened her mouth for a greeting when the door behind Junichiro slammed open hard enough that it rebounded back into place and then started to swing open again. By the time it had done so, though, the humanoid pink missile that had burst through it was already on the other side of the room, diving over Sona’s desk with arms outstretched. “So-tan~!”

Sona managed to get out half of a garbled “Sister—!” before she was bodily tackled by the Satan and her chair tipped over backwards with a thump, Serafall cheerfully rubbing her cheek on the crown of Sona’s head as she hugged her little sister tightly enough to ensure there would be no escape.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Serafall declared cheerfully. “Sister thought she would have to wait until the Summer holidays, but she gets to see you so early!” The Satan sighed happily. “Ah, sister missed you so much…”

The faint sound of a boiling kettle emanated faintly from between Sona’s clenched teeth as she lay ramrod straight, her gaze fixed on the ceiling and her face as red as Rias’ hair. “Sister...please get off me…”

A muffled snort just barely escaped Junichiro’s nostrils, despite him covering his nose and mouth with a hand to contain his amusement. Rias, for her part, managed to suppress her own amusement, merely smiling at Sona as she glared between the two of them, betrayal clear on her face despite its incandescent hue.

With one last squeeze, Serafall released her sister and hopped back to her feet with a flutter of cloth. Now that she was holding still, her outfit was recognisable as the costume worn by the main character of a popular magical girl anime. The miniskirt, hat and sleeveless, midriff-baring top were pink, as were the ribbons keeping her pigtails in place and the thigh-highs that led down into her boots. Apart from some yellow detailing, the rest of the outfit was mostly black, including the fingerless gloves, high-heeled boots and belt, except for a few white flaps added to the sides of the top and skirt for decoration.

“You’ll have to tell me about everything that’s happened since you came back to school later So-tan,” Serafall declared, while Sona was picking herself up off the floor and trying to salvage what remained of her dignity as she straightened her glasses. “But at the moment big sister’s here for work.”

Glancing to the side, Serafall smiled and waved happily to Rias. “Hello Rias! Sirzechs says he would have come if he could, but Grayfia grounded him!”

Rias gave a light, tinkling laugh. “I wonder what my dear brother did to land himself in the doghouse  _ this  _ time?” She smiled. “It is good to see you again, Lady Leviathan.”

Serafall pouted cutely at the formality, but smiled nonetheless. However, the levity in her actions faded as she turned to regard Junichiro, one eyebrow arched and a hand on her hip.

The half-blood stepped forward, then dipped into a formal bow, arms at his sides and his head nearly parallel to the ground, though his eyes remained fixed on the Satan’s. He spoke, scarcely a trace of his accent shining through as he carefully enunciated every word. “Lady Leviathan, it is an honor. I am Junichiro Yamamoto of the Ooe clan.” Junichiro straightened, then smiled pleasantly. “Lady Yasaka of Reverse Kyoto sends her regards and well-wishes. She, and I, do hope that our peoples will continue to coexist on friendly terms.”

Serafall smiled and nodded. “Mm, tell Yasaka that the dango place she recommended last time was just as good as she said. I’ll bring some the next time I come to visit.”

Junichiro chuckled and gave a nod. “I’ll pass it on, Lady Leviathan.” More of his accent had started to slip back into his words, but his tone remained fairly formal even though the flowery introductions were done.

“Thanks!” Serafall returned cheerily. “Well, you’ve introduced yourself so I guess you should too Donald—”

The Satan had turned around as she was speaking, facing the still mostly-closed door to the room. When she saw it, she cut herself off mid-sentence with a huff, her hands falling to her hips. “Oi oi, Donald, you’re kind of embarrassing Levi-tan here.”

There was a moment of continued silence from the door as Serafall continued to stare at it, before the portal swept quietly open to reveal the figure on the other side.

Standing at roughly the same height as Junichiro himself, in almost every other respect the teen could have been his inversion. Lanky and thin like a scarecrow, pale-skinned with short but choppy white hair and the aura of someone who considered healthcare to be something that happened to people with more time on their hands, the look in his eyes screamed that he had absolutely no wish to be where he was.

But he still stepped into the room, then turned to close the door behind him – an action which took considerably longer than opening it had. Even from across the room, Junichiro could hear the sigh the teen let out when the portal was sealed once more.

Turning around to face the room again, the teen slipped his hands into the pockets of his labcoat and spoke to nothing in particular, his gaze focussed somewhere beyond the wall over Serafall’s head. “I’m Donald Maxwell, a researcher with the Beelzebub Institute of Research and Development. I’ve been temporarily assigned as a research associate to the University of Kuoh under orders of Ajuka Beelzebub, so I’ve been instructed to make my presence known.”

The first thing that Junichiro noticed was that, unlike everyone else in the room, this Donald had spoken in English. Granted, Devils could slide between six different languages in the span of a conversation and think nothing of it, but he himself only spoke English because of his inherited memories.

The second, and more important thing Junichiro noticed was the cool, thin, uniform mantle of human magic settling around the other teen’s shoulders. Opening himself to Donald’s energy only slightly confirmed his budding suspicions.

“You’re that mage from yesterday,” he commented, deliberately using English rather than Japanese.

Donald tensed, his shoulders visibly hunching somewhat although there were no signs of his hands clenching inside his pockets, then his expression blanked as his body language did likewise. “If you are referring to the incident with the crows yesterday afternoon, then yes, I was there.”

Junichiro tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing the other boy. After a moment, he shrugged. “Eh. If ya’ want yer net, Rias has it in storage. Nice work on that, by the by; real clean enchantin’.”

The blank-faced teen considered him for a moment. “I would appreciate its return. The compliment is also appreciated.”

At this, Rias interjected. “I will retrieve it after this afternoon’s business is concluded.” She glanced between Sona and Serafall. “Speaking of which…”

Sona pushed her glasses up, catching the light of the setting sun and causing them to glare. “Indeed. While I do have some questions for Mr. Maxwell, as well as for you, sister, I think they can wait.” She folded her arms and looked at Rias. “I do believe we’ve kept Tsubaki and Akeno waiting long enough, don’t you?”

Riaa nodded. “Yes, I do believe you are right.” The redhead motioned to Serafall. “Allow me to show you to the prisoner, Lady Leviathan.”

Serafall’s expression didn’t change massively...but it did shift, and when she nodded, it was taken for the command it was.

-x-x-x-

Junichiro didn’t stay for the full interrogation.

Raynare had been chained up inside a confinement circle, under guard in one of the old school building’s rooms. She’d been volatile, vicious and venomous from the moment the muting effect of the circle was lifted, full of threats and insults…

Until Serafall let Akeno answer them.

Even after what followed, the Fallen hadn’t been entirely cooperative. She did her best to divert any attention away from certain topics, like who exactly she had been given her instructions by and how she and her team had been able to enter Kuoh, but Serafall kept dragging the questioning back that way. Raynare had been getting more and more cornered, and it looked like Serafall was entirely willing to wait until the Fallen gave her an excuse to break the last of her will.

Despite the smell of ozone and burning in the room, the atmosphere had been icy.

Though Akeno’s expression had screamed of barely-suppressed sadistic delight, and Serafall’s pleasant tone of voice and smile had never wavered, Junichiro knew he wasn’t the only uneasy one. Sona concealed it best, but she was clearly uncomfortable, most likely from seeing her sister acting in such a way; Tsubaki wasn’t quite as proficient with her poker face as Sona, and her own discomfort likely stemmed from never having been exposed to quite that side of the Moonlit World’s politics.

Rias hadn’t seemed to care so much for Raynare or her suffering, so much as she did for the way Akeno was indulging herself.

Still, the Devils couldn’t exactly leave; not only were Sona and Rias the area’s overseers, but Sona wouldn’t show weakness in front of her sister and Rias wouldn’t leave her Queen behind, much as Tsubaki wouldn’t leave her King.

Junichiro had no such restrictions.

Though of course, neither did Donald. Yet despite that, the other teen hadn’t so much as flinched, twitched, or turned away from the moment the interrogation began.

His eyes had been as cold as Serafall’s smile.

As Junichiro left the old school building, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was perhaps hypocritical of him, to squirm in the face of torture when he, like his brethren, found great fulfilment in the heat of battle, but…

But if that made him a hypocrite, then a hypocrite he would be. He would not deny his own emotions on the matter just because they made him ask uncomfortable questions about himself, questions to which he did not know the answer.

“‘Know thyself and know thy enemy; a thousand battles, a thousand victories,’” he quoted under his breath as he walked along, shaking his head ruefully. The irony that a quote by Sun Tzu had been the one that had immediately come to mind was not lost on Junichiro.

As he pondered both his own internal conflict and the enigmatic mage’s seeming  _ lack  _ thereof, the half-blood found his feet wandering, almost of their own accord. Within minutes, Junichiro stood in front of the academy’s gates, and there he froze. An all-too familiar energy tickled at the fringes of his senses.

_ The fluttering of feathers, stained black as night. The Light of Creation, warped and profaned by sin. _

In the next instant, Junichirou had vaulted over the gate and was sprinting towards the forest in front of the academy, and within it, the unmistakable energy signatures; two Fallen, familiar ones. The two that had left the town a few days prior, in fact.

As he ran, he flicked his left wrist, a tattoo matching the one on his right gleaming with chakra as a pair of white-hilted, white-sheathed blades appeared at his left hip. He palmed the shorter of the two, the  _ wakizashi _ with his left hand, even as he drew the longer  _ katana _ with his right. Both blades were a pristine white, and in the gloaming of the late afternoon they seemed to shine.

Moments later, he darted into a clearing, skidding to a stop with blades brandished and eyes wild. He could already feel his body temperature rising, feel his horns pressing against the front of his skull,  _ begging _ to sprout free. Fire roiled in his veins and his chest heaved, his breath steaming in the air as though Winter had fallen over the early Spring. 

Junichiro’s gaze snapped between the two Fallen. One man, tall, dark and dressed in a trenchcoat— _ ‘Dohnaseek,’ _ the memories whispered—and one woman, short, blonde and dressed in a frilly lolita outfit.  _ ‘Mittelt,’ _ came the answer to a question unasked. 

Before either could speak, Junichiro demanded, “What’re ya’ doin’ back here?! Yer bitch of a leader already got herself caught, and if yer here to bust her out, the Leviathan’ll prolly have somethin’ to say about  _ that.” _

Mittelt turned red with anger almost before Junichiro had finished speaking, taking half a step forward and opening her mouth before Dohnaseek’s arm snaked out and wrapped around her lower face, simultaneously restraining her and silencing her. He ate several elbows to the stomach in quick succession for his trouble, and winced but didn’t release her. “Peace, scion of Douji! We seek no conflict!”

Junichiro let his muscles relax slightly, his blades and body temperature dipping a fraction. “That so? Then why’re ya here, eh?”

“I brought them along. They played a part in starting this mess, so I thought it was only right they should help clean it up.”

The voice was deep, smooth, and drenched in enough charisma to charm the clothes off of a whole cloister of nuns. The owner of the voice, too, held a level of charm that went past the supernatural and bordered on the  _ metaphysical _ , drawing every eye in the clearing as naturally as he breathed once he emerged from the treeline behind the duo _. _ Tousled brown hair tipped in blond akin to spun gold framed amethyst eyes and a roguish, goateed face. His crimson trenchcoat, open almost to his navel and decorated with no less than ten belts, was ultimately nothing but an afterthought when compared to the man’s sheer presence.

Beneath all that charm, though, Junichiro could sense a yawning abyss, a great, starving maw without end. In the shadow of the man’s stride, the half-blood glimpsed a flash of umbral wings, great, terrible and twelve in number. In the wake of the Fallen’s passing, the very  _ planet’s  _ chakra seemed to part, such were his majesty and his tyranny.

By the time the man had taken three steps towards Junichiro, the teen’s blades had fallen from his nerveless fingers. By the time he’d taken five, the half-blood’s veins ran with ice, not fire.

There was no mistaking this man, even without the memories. There was only one Fallen Angel yet living who commanded this level of power, who demanded this level of subservience from even the world itself.

The Scapegoat. Dudael’s Fugitive. The Governor-General of the Grigori.

_ Azazel. _


End file.
